The Land Between Solar Systems
by Red Bess Rackham
Summary: When Enterprise is asked to rescue a group of space-storm chasers, they get more then they bargained for. Kirk and McCoy's friendship is tested when old wounds are reopened, while someone else is bent on ensuring Enterprise never reaches Earth... (T for language, minor violence, some heavy themes. No slash.) Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I have nothing clever to put here. Obviously I don't own Star Trek.

**A/n:** So back in the summer of '12, I did the Het Big Bang over on LJ again, and produced this beast. I intended to come here and post it right after, but some really tough real life stuff happened, and anyways, I'm posting it here now. I'll be posting a couple chapters right off to get 'er going, and the rest will follow in coming weeks. This fic has several OCs running around, but _trust me,_ give me a chance, and let me know whatcha think! (The _Enterprise_ will show up in chapter 2!)

Major thanks to **stars_inthe_sky**, **morgieporgie** and **inkspire89** for cheerleading and helping me fix this beast. These three were seriously amazing (and put up with my whiny flailing)! Any mistakes, holes, and flaws remaining are all mine. And thanks to other Het Bangers - you know who you are - for being generally awesome.

_(Fic originally posted on AO3, August 2012)_

* * *

**The Land Between Solar Systems**

Chasing black holes and storms in space was dangerous work, but it was the kind of work that Holly Cameron enjoyed. Sure, the ship was a bit ramshackle, and the crew was a diverse mix of civilians and Starfleet Officers, but it had been her home for the past couple years. Despite a number of close calls and near-death experiences, she didn't think there was any place she'd rather be.

"Holly Cameron! Report to bridge _now_."

As the captain's voice boomed over the intercom, Holly winced. Kryst, angled beside her and holding the light so she could use both hands on the tools, chuckled.

"Uh oh," he said. "That doesn't sound good."

"Not with that tone," she agreed. She popped off a second panel and began inspecting the machine before her.

"How bad is it?" Kryst asked. "The engine, I mean."

"That thermo-coupling is loose again." Holly swore under her breath. "And the other one is cracked. Hand me the sealer."

"It's almost empty."

She sighed. "I'll have to get Jem to make some more temporary stuff."

Though Jem primarily worked as the medic on the ship, she was very adept with chemicals and, as Holly liked to call it, _making crap out of thin air._ Living on her own in the wild forests on Saxis, Jem had gathered a wide array of skills that allowed her to do that. Holly wished she knew half as much about survival as her friend.

Kryst tightened the loose coupling while Holly sealed up the other one. They changed out several wires, patched up a few more, and adjusted the polarization on the auxiliary nacelles. Once satisfied they'd done as much as they could for now, they slid out from under the large section of the engine. Kryst started flipping switches while Holly wiped down her hands on some rags.

"I think that will do until the next storm," said Kryst. "Those casings on three almost came entirely off during the last one. We can't take another hit like that."

Holly nodded. "I know. We'll have to make it work until the next supply run, though."

"Which could be as far away as seven weeks," he said grimly as his deft fingers told the computer to run diagnostics on the engine. "We should have got something when we were planet-side last month."

"The casings weren't a problem then," Holly reminded him, setting her tools aside, but knew he was right. "And neither was the inner plating on C deck."

It came with their current line of work, she supposed. Black holes, worm holes, space storms—they went after them and studied them, which took a heavy toll on their ship. Space was unstable and full of extreme forces that could pull you in faster than maximum warp or try to blow you apart like a super nova. Or sometimes even the bigger ones did _both—_that was _particularly_ exciting.

The warp drive aboard their ship was extremely experimental and part organic; she'd never seen anything like it when she first came aboard almost two years ago. The drive's main purpose was to create a dynamic field around the ship that allowed them to get close to the space storms without getting destroyed. So far it had worked, but not without a couple dozen near misses and an incredible amount of wear and tear. It probably didn't help that the ship was an eclectic mix of old and new technology. At the rate it was going, she figured it wouldn't be too long before it was held together by faith, willpower, and little else.

All in all, it wasn't hard to see why they had stressed the risky nature of the mission before she'd signed up, or why the small crew was an odd mix of Starfleet officers and civilian volunteers, all with overlapping duties and skills. If something happened, there was always someone who could pick up the slack. Holly's duties therefore were not just limited to repairs and mechanics, but she also tended to the hydroponic garden and was part of the core research team in command that handled the storms the ship came across.

When her name was barked over the intercom a second time, Kryst shot her an amused look.

"You better get going or the captain will come down here and get you himself."

"I'm going. Don't start engine four without me." Holly winked at her red-haired companion and immediately set off for the bridge.

Once on the middle deck, she made a quick stop at her quarters. She wished she had time to shower, but it was a better idea not to keep her brother waiting any longer, especially since he'd already called her twice. In the bathroom mirror, she grimaced at the streak of oil on her cheek and proceeded to scrub it off. It never failed—no matter how many or few hours she spent in the engine room doing repairs, no matter how careful she was, she always managed to end up with oil on her face (a fact her fellow crewmember Dal never failed to point out).

_At least it's not in my hair._ Holly thought. She took it out of her usual ponytail, letting the tangled brown mess fall to her shoulders, ran a brush through it, and threw it back up as she hurried out the door.

"Are you in trouble again?" Jem asked with a wide smile, as she passed her friend in the corridor before the turbolift. Her incredibly large eyes were bright and twinkling. Even after all this time, Holly had to admit her friend's height caught her slightly off guard—Holly barely came up to Jem's shoulder, and Holly wasn't short. Though Jem was only part Saxian, she shared many of their traits, including the dark skin, sharp cheekbones and lithe, slender build.

"Apparently." Holly replied, then added, "By the way, we're almost out of that engine sealant. Do you think you can make some more for us?"

Jem raised an eyebrow slightly. "We went through that awfully quick."

"Yeah, the ship can't take hits as well as she used to."

Jem nodded and inclined her head down slightly. "I shall see what I can do."

"You're the best." Holly grinned, getting into the turbolift.

* * *

She didn't have the chance to say anything when she reached the bridge, as the moment the turbolift slid open, the captain swivelled around his seat.

"You certainly took your time getting here. What took you so long?"

"I was elbow deep in engine parts. Those engines won't fix themselves, you know." She settled into the empty seat beside her brother, Captain Charlie Cameron. "Kryst and I have been fixing engines one through three all day. We had to make sure everything was still holding together before another storm hits."

"And? How did you make out?" Charlie swiftly set the controls to autopilot then returned his attention to Holly.

"We'll be all right for another bout or two, but we need supplies as soon as possible." She answered. "And a new repressor coil couldn't hurt."

The captain sighed and ran his hand through his close-cropped dark brown hair. "We just did a supply run to Karth less than four weeks ago."

"I know, Charlie, but four weeks ago we hadn't gone through three category sevens in a row."

"All right, I'll send a request to Starfleet and maybe we can alter our course a bit to arrange a pick-up on Fa'ar."

"Thank you." Holly smiled, then leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now what did you page me up here for?"

Charlie glared at her and held up his PADD, its screen dark.

"What?" Holly shrugged.

"It's dead again."

"Well, you should charge it."

"I shouldn't _need_ to charge it, Holly. Not nearly as often as I find myself needing to charge it. And it shouldn't be in any other place than the last spot I put it, yet it _always_ manages to find its way down to engineering or some other spot on the ship where I did not take it."

_Ah_. She could see where this was going now. Holly at least had the grace to wince and mumble an apology. She knew this was one of her brother's biggest pet peeves.

"What happened to yours?" he asked.

"Powercells are dead." She admitted with another wince.

"Because you leave it on _all the time,_ and never charge it. Then you use mine, and never turn it off, which drains the powercells, and then I can't use it to get organized, do reports and logs and other Captain-y things. When I can't do all those Captain-y things on my PADD because it's dead, then I get cranky, and you always tell me how much you hate it when I'm cranky." He eyed his sister, who was fighting not to roll her eyes.

"So the moral of the story is turn off _your_ PADD when you're not using it, so it doesn't die, and then you don't need to use _mine_." As an afterthought, he added with a small smirk, "Or you could just borrow Dal's instead."

Holly chuckled. The thought was certainly appealing, as she and Dal were constantly getting on each other's nerves. Anything to annoy him—especially because she knew he thought the same about her. Jem said it was something about their energies clashing, but Holly was pretty sure it was because Dal was a bitter, old _ass_.

"All right, I will _try_ to remember to turn my PADD off so I don't kill the power cells. And I will refrain from borrowing yours so I don't mess up your _Captain-y_ things."

"Thank you." Charlie exhaled. "And Hols? Try not to drop yours so much too while you're at it. I don't know how many more times Kryst will able to work his magic and fix that thing."

"Hey, no promises," she teased. "Just be glad I haven't broken _yours _yet."

"I am _very_ glad."

Holly shot her brother a warm smile. Not for the first time, she glad he was back in her life. After he'd left Corinth IV for a top-level university program off-planet, followed by his years with Starfleet, they had had a bit of a falling out and completely lost touch. They'd been close as children and though they steadily grew apart as teens, he was still her older brother, and she had always been counting on him being there for her, no matter what. His decision to leave had been the start of the fighting—in hindsight, she'd been extremely selfish about the whole thing, but then again, she'd only been 15 at the time.

When Holly had signed up to go on this research mission, it was mostly because she'd been drifting from pointless job to pointless job, unable to feel grounded, unable to settle. She was restless and angry at the world. Her parents, though caring enough, had never been terribly warm or gracious people. They didn't know how to help Holly, except when she came home with a flyer in her hand for an experimental scientific mission in deep space for _intelligent, dedicated, risk-takers looking for a new challenge_, insisting that she was going. Then, they had given her money and driven her to the spaceport.

Afterwards she'd learned that she was accepted to go on the mission, then discovered that not only was the mission being led by a Starfleet officer, but the particular officer was none other than her older brother Charlie.

There was an awkward few months after the mission began where she still tried to be mad at him for leaving and he tried to apologize while still holding his ground. There was a lot of tension and unease, until one night after dinner when they were alone, the dam burst. She'd yelled and cried, and it ended when he'd hugged her tight. She'd come to understand his side of things—she wasn't 15 anymore and she was no longer angry. From there, they started over at square one, and had been rebuilding their friendship ever since.

"Hey, I was thinking of heading to the gym for a bit. You want to do some sparring?" Charlie asked.

"That would be really good, actually," replied Holly. "You can pick up where you left off in our lessons."

Before he had a chance to answer her, alarms started going off as lights flashed across the panels and screens on the bridge. Holly rushed forward as Charlie pulled up a holomap.

"It's the four we've been tracking," she said. "Looks like she's graduated to a five."

Charlie switched on the intercom at once. "Research personnel to the bridge immediately. Repeat: research personnel to the bridge immediately. Ensigns Torres and Pace to Engineering."

Holly swiftly took her place at the console to the front and right of Charlie. He made some quick adjustments at the helm, before settling in his captain's chair. Dal arrived first and walked directly to take the empty pilot chair. He brushed past Holly roughly, jarring her from the calculations she was making and almost knocking her with his elbow.

She glared at him. "Oh, hi, Dal. Nice to see you, too."

He didn't spare her a glance and merely grunted as he laid in the necessary course for pursuing the latest space storm.

"Thanks Holly, how has your day been?" she continued sarcastically. "Not too bad, and how about you?"

Finally he replied gruffly, "I saw you at breakfast. What do you want from me?"

"It's common courtesy. Oh, I forgot, you don't know what that is since it was only invented in the last couple centuries."

Dal was in his late fifties and therefore only truthfully about twenty-five years older than Holly, but he was very prone to treating her like a child, so she in turn opted to treat him like he was ancient.

"We're about to chase down a category four—"

"Five." She corrected but he ignored her.

"—and you want me to pander to you and ask you how your day was, when we both know I couldn't care less? Come on, princess."

Holly opened her mouth to retort when Charlie said warningly, "Children…"

She settled for another quick glare in Dal's direction before returning her full attention to the screens before her.

Jem entered the bridge next, taking up her post at the set of consoles and stations on the far left. Because her limbs and fingers were much longer than a human's, and her sizable eyes could take in more information, she had the ability to cover twice the number of panels and consoles than her human counterparts. Kryst came in right behind her, and clapped his hands together loudly.

"Showtime!" He took up his position towards the back of the bridge and put his headset on.

"On my mark, thrusters on full," Charlie directed and Holly noticed he was using his "captain" voice now.

"Sensors online, operating at 100% capacity," Holly reported. "All systems functional and active."

"Noted," her brother confirmed, then commanded Dal to set the ship full speed ahead. They blasted forward and in seconds they were in tactical range of the roiling anomaly.

"Dropping into communication blackout in three…" Jem's long fingers flew across the keys and buttons before her as she counted down. "Two… one."

This, Holly supposed, was probably the part that made her the most uneasy. It wasn't so much chasing black holes in space, dangerous though it may be. It was the electrical interference and magnetic distortion caused by the storms, making it impossible to communicate or transport in or out the moment they were in range of a storm, that worried her. Especially when they were this deep in space, the idea of being unreachable (or unable to call for help should they need it) was not a good one. She was very adept at not thinking about it, however. She'd had a lot of practice.

Dal maneuvered the ship closer to the singularity and the crew got their first good look at the storm now that they were in visual range.

Some of the storms and black holes they chased were a fireworks display of light and color. Others were more like giant voids, with no stars, ringed by swirling arms like a whirlpool. They all tended to vary in size as well, though of course the more major the category, the bigger, more unstable and violent they tended to be. This one was expansive and flickering with tendrils of orange and yellow, making Holly think of fire burning a hole in space.

Holly turned her attention back to the screens before her, her eyes scanning the read-outs. They were at a good speed and going any faster meant getting too close. She called over her shoulder to Dal, "Take it down a few, Dal."

He didn't acknowledge her and when she didn't see an immediate decrease in their speed, Holly snapped, "I said we're coming in hot—level out!"

"I heard you the first time, princess!" he shot back.

He eased back on the navigation controls, expertly turning the ship so that they were more alongside the storm, while still keeping it in visual range. As the ship began to shake and vibrate, Holly gritted her teeth, thinking of the casings she and Kryst had repaired earlier.

Kryst kept up a steady stream of dialogue with Torres and Pace down in Engineering, as they reported that the warp drive was holding steady.

"Data is now being collected," said Jem. She watched the blue bars on a small monitor and gave the tiniest of smiles. It was always a relief when the drive did it was it was supposed to: kept them safe while pulling in loads of data to be researched.

"Hold steady, Dal," commanded Charlie. "We need as long as you can give us."

Dal snorted then replied, "As always, Captain."

A yellow flashing light caught Holly's eye to her right and she quickly brought up several screens that were measuring the status of the singularity.

"Problem," she said. "Storm's moving away from us—and fast, too."

"We have not reached minimum levels of data yet, sir, we cannot let it go yet."

Charlie nodded at Jem and told Dal, "Don't let her get away."

The older man tilted his head with determination. "Not while I'm piloting, she won't."

He gave the engines a push, sliding the ship forward quickly to keep pace with the retreating storm. It seemed to be curling larger, with more tendrils snaking off this and way that. The ship abruptly gave a violent shudder that nearly unseated them and caused Kryst to stumble to his knees.

"Holly," Charlie said through tight teeth as the ship lurched again. "About those repairs you were making earlier –"

"She'll hold together, don't worry!" she shook her head. "I'll be making them all over again as soon as we're done, I know."

The look on his face indicated that he wasn't sure if he trusted that, but she knew they'd survived far worse. Besides, she fixed those thermo-couplings herself—they'd hold.

_They'd better,_ she thought.

A good minute or so passed. The ship continued to take hits, and though Dal's forehead was glistening slightly, he kept the ship almost perfectly close to the storm. Suddenly a number of alarms started whining and flashing, and blinking lights across Holly and Jem's panels joined them.

"New problem!" Holly shouted above the din of the shaking ship. "It's not moving away anymore!"

"Then what is it doing?" Charlie yelled back.

"Coming right at us!"

Dal jammed switches furiously and pulled back hard on the navigation controls, while Holly just as hastily made adjustments on the screens before her, though there was truly little at this point she could do to help, except call out the rate at which the storm was shifting and gaining on them. The ship was turning fast, but she feared not fast enough.

"Increase the field by point eight!" Kryst ordered as the ship was buffeted hard with another burst from the storm. "We're getting hammered up here!"

"How close are we, Holly?" asked Charlie.

"Still too close!"

Dal used one hand to make some quick modifications while still hauling back on the controls. He abruptly changed tactics and Holly felt the ship swerve one way then the other. There was a sharp dip, and then the storm disappeared from the view screen. She watched the magnetic levels start receding as Dal managed to put some distance between them and the unstable force.

After a tense few seconds, she reported, "Clear. It's changed directions again, but it seems to be losing strength."

Dal relaxed his hold on the navigational controls slightly, but didn't back off the throttle. They needed to reach a safe distance away from the singularity before proceeding to warp. After that, Jem and Charlie would sit down and plot out a new course based on the data gathered to find a new storm.

"It appears we came onto it as it was reaching its peak, sir," Jem confirmed a moment later. "We have encountered very few storms at this stage before, and we were able to recover a significant amount of data."

Charlie exhaled. "Well, while I don't think I needed the ulcer that little hiccup just gave me, that's good to hear." He glanced behind him to Kryst. "How's our engine?"

"Still in one piece," Kryst chuckled. "A few fissures in the cooling tank from the hits we took back there, but nothing else major as far as they can tell."

The captain turned to Dal. "That was some excellent piloting as usual, my friend."

He nodded curtly in thanks but otherwise didn't respond, still focused on getting them free and clear. Once they reached a safe distance, Charlie tasked Dal with taking the ship to warp to a set of coordinates where they would return to low power to make repairs.

Kryst removed his headset. "If we're good here, I could really use some food."

"We're done for now, yes. Make me something while you're at it," Charlie said teasingly and sent his friend on his way.

"I will retire to my quarters to meditate," Jem stood and bowed slightly to the captain before following Kryst into the turbolift.

Holly tended to feel a little bad for Jem after incidents like the one they'd just had. While she was good at remaining extremely calm and cool under any pressure (even that one category eight they had run into five months ago), Jem always had such a troubled look on her face when the action died down. She said that her kind often found it easy to compartmentalize _during_ something intense, but the emotions would always hit afterwards. To deal with it, she chose to meditate. Holly on the other hand, much like Kryst, enjoyed the mix of fear and excitement that swept over her whenever they tracked a storm.

"That's because you're reckless," Charlie would say. "You get a thrill out of real danger too much, Hols."

She would usually change the subject or ignore him because she wasn't _reckless_, just… couldn't sit still and all right, was maybe too curious for her own good, which maybe sometimes lead to bad decisions. It could be worse, she figured.

"Still up for that sparring session?" asked her brother, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Absolutely. I just want to stop at my quarters and change first."

"That's right princess, you need to put the correct clothes on for wrestling around on a gym mat." Dal remarked.

Holly scowled at the back of his bald head. "I'd rather not wear my greasy engineering coveralls, if that's all right with you."

"Guys…" Charlie began warningly.

"And speaking of _all right with me_," Dal switched on the autopilot and turned in his seat to face Holly. "When we're in the middle of chasing down a goddamn storm, you don't need to bark orders at me more than once. I'm not deaf, you know. And you don't sit that far away, I can hear you just fine."

"You didn't do anything to indicate you'd heard me, and we were going in too fast—"

"I _know_ how fast we were going, I've been piloting for longer than you've been alive—"

"_Guys_."

Holly crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, play the age card, you haven't done that yet today."

"When you're good enough to fly this boat on your own, sweetie, you let me know."

"Big deal, Dal. These things practically drive themselves."

She didn't honestly believe that, but she said it anyways. She hit a nerve with that one, she could tell. He'd started this one though, and he'd cut her plenty of times before. Besides, this is what she did with Dal: argue (usually about nothing).

"And sitting at your little station watching screens and pressing buttons is so terribly _taxing_ and requires a lot of skill, does it?"

"_Guys_." Charlie cut-in, annoyed, before Holly had the chance to retort. "Give it a rest. Don't make me order you to." He faced his sister. "Let's go have that sparring session—_now_."

The captain assigned the conn to Dal, and hauled Holly into the turbolift with him by her elbow, not letting her get the last word in.

* * *

**A/n:** Interested? Like it? Hate it? I'd love to hear from you! ;) Next up, Kirk and McCoy... and a really big problem...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: **Thanks for reading, everyone! If you know me, you know I like to sneak tiny references to other things I love into my stories. Good luck finding them - some of them are pretty impossible to figure out. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The _Enterprise_ was docked at Namiage for some well-deserved downtime. A number of the crew were planetside to shop, relax, have fun, or just for a change of scenery. Kirk had gone down with McCoy and a few others, and was currently playing a Cressidarian card game called Skrye.

McCoy referred to the rules of the game as a "goddamn mess", but it didn't prevent him from being fairly good at it - at least as good as Kirk, anyways. There were a number of onlookers who had gathered to watch the pair play, and as they neared the final rounds, bets were being traded about who was going to win.

"Are you feeling lucky, Bones?" Kirk asked with one of his trademark cocky grins.

McCoy grunted and said, "I should ask you the same question."

Kirk laughed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm _always_ feeling lucky."

He winked over McCoy's head at a pretty redhead who rolled her eyes but laughed as well. Kirk was notoriously flirtatious and most of the female crew aboard the _Enterprise_ therefore knew not to take him too seriously when it came to that sort of thing.

"All right then, take your last turn and we'll see who ends up being the luckiest."

Kirk reached forward and drew a card from four of the six different colored decks between him and McCoy on the table, and kept his features carefully cool. He wasn't as good at poker as McCoy, mostly because his friend knew him well enough to be able to discern when he was bluffing (most of the time). In this game however, it was less about bluffing and more about not letting on when you drew high point cards, as well as playing fast and smart. Kirk laid down a pair, drew another yellow card, discarded a green one, pulled a new purple card, and triumphantly laid down all of the blue cards in his hand, forming a chain of increasingly high scoring cards. He grinned as McCoy swore quietly under his breath.

"Your turn."

McCoy glanced down at the cards in his hand, and knew if he didn't draw the right red cards, he was out. He worked through his turn, drawing and discarding various cards in succession similar to what Kirk had done, and though he ended up being close, he still came up short and didn't have enough points from previous rounds to overtake Kirk.

He tossed the remainder of his hand down. "You got me," he said and his friend hopped out of his chair with a little whoop.

The onlookers laughed and clapped, traded credits, and closed out their bets. Several went to get a new round of drinks, and the noise level which had previously dropped as they all quietly watched the card game, rose. Kirk got a pair of fresh drinks that were as close to beer as they could get on this planet, and put them down on the table with a loud thunk.

"I thought you had me at the end there," he said.

"So did I," McCoy replied and took a deep sip from his glass.

"Next time we can play Rodeskian poker."

McCoy chuckled and said, "You can't handle Rodeskian poker. Remember when we were on that diplomatic mission to Tyrbius? And you ended up in the alleyway with your damn trousers on your head?"

Kirk threw his head back and laughed. "I'd forgotten about that! That was the one with the, uh, the Tyrbissian princess?"

"Yes. And sadly, I have _not_ forgotten about that. Or about fishing you out of a dumpster two hours later, and getting the hell out of there before she realized you were gone." He was trying to act irritated by the incident, but couldn't help the smile that crept across his features as his friend laughed all the harder.

"That's right!"

"The delegate was practically chasing us down as we ran for the shuttle pod…"

Kirk clapped his friend on the back. "Bones, what would I do without you?"

"Probably get yourself killed." He answered flatly, the half-smile turning up his lips once again betraying his tone.

"At least it wasn't bad as the excursion to Delta Paven."

McCoy frowned, shaking his head. "_Nothing_ will be as bad as Delta Paven."

"You have to lighten up about that. It was fun! Well, in an… _oh god, oh god we're all gonna die_ kind of way."

"You cannot, in any way, refer to that as 'fun'."

"All right, all right," Kirk laughed again. "It was horrible."

The comm in his pocket began vibrating and beeping softly, so he pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, we've received an urgent transmission from Starfleet Command requesting you contact them at once," Spock reported. "I apologize, but it seems we have a new mission, therefore the crew will have to come back immediately as well."

Kirk sighed, disappointed that shore-leave was over, and not happy about having to inform the others that it had been cut short either. McCoy shot him a resigned look and finished off his drink.

"Understood," Kirk said into the comm and hung up. He took a moment to quickly down the rest of his faux beer, before getting to his feet and calling for everyone's attention.

"Sorry kids!" he shouted over their heads. "Party's over! Starfleet says so."

There was some grumbling and moaning, a little bit of cursing from the more intoxicated officers, but slowly everyone paid their tabs and shuffled out of the bar. Kirk stayed behind to shoo out the stragglers, and soon everyone was climbing back in to the shuttles they'd arrived in, heading back to _Enterprise_.

* * *

After about half an hour, they were both sweating, Holly much more than her brother. He was very good at this—which was why he was the one teaching of course, but it frustrated her that she couldn't keep up.

"Give it time," Charlie told her, when she was red-faced, dripping with sweat, and frustrated that he always bested her so easily. "We'll keep practicing."

He tapped her chin with his fist and winked, "Besides, I'm uncommonly good at this."

She took it as a challenge.

They backed up again and circled each other around the large mat, alert, and ready. He moved first, quick as lightning, throwing a right jab, and she hopped out of the way, albeit ungracefully. He smiled wide as she wobbled. He waited a beat, then threw one from the a left. She was able to dodge again, but she could tell he was holding back.

The next time, he faked her out, starting right, then moving left, landing a hit on her shoulder. She struck out while he was stepped in close, but he was too fast, and easily avoided her blows. She didn't appreciate his smug grin when he moved back to his original position, and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?"

"Give me a chance, here, Charlie, I'm still relatively new at this."

He chuckled. "We've been doing this for four months! How's that new?"

"All right, fine, but I'm not very _good_ at this."

He grinned and teased, "_That_ is true. But, practice makes perfect."

"You would know, Mr. Perfectionist."

He laughed and darted forwards. She brought her fists up to meet him, and though she attempted to evade her brother, he—as usual—seemed to be able to anticipate exactly what she was going to do. _Telegraphing your intentions_, he called it. She wished _he_ would telegraph his moves so she could have an edge for once.

She blocked his punches methodically, her left forearm countering his right hook. Then she jabbed with her right, leaned back to miss his back-fist, and attempted a combination move that he had no trouble avoiding, but still praised her for.

"Your form is improving. Ready to try a hold?"

She frowned—"holds" with Charlie usually ended up with her on the floor. He assured her this was because she was still learning the techniques, but she was pretty sure it was because he liked winning—he was just as competitive as she was.

He moved in close, locking his arms around her from behind. They grappled for a moment. She threw her weight forwards, trying to unbalance him, and twisted abruptly to the side, escaping his grip and stepping momentarily out of his reach.

"Nice," he commented.

The ship shuddered and when Charlie glanced up in concern, she pounced on his moment of distraction, lunging forwards. She collided with him and they struggled briefly, then he spun away, dropping down and rolling to the side. She stumbled and fell, but recovered quickly.

"Charlie, you need to learn to relax," Holly panted, kicking at her brother and managed a glancing blow across his shoulder. "Every time you're not on the bridge and the ship creaks, you get frown lines."

"I do not," he protested and made a grab for her, but she ducked and kept her fists up near her face as he'd taught her. Charlie whirled behind her and tapped her ribs.

"You do." She responded immediately to his move, spinning to meet him and jabbing sharply left and right in quick succession, advancing as he blocked her. "You're such a control freak. Everything has to be perfect, your way, just right."

"That's why I'm the Captain," he said with a teasing smile. Charlie danced backwards out of her range. "And you always have to push your luck, go right to the edge and just make it work."

Holly smirked right back. "That's why I'm the mechanic."

She ran at him and he reached out, grabbing her wrist and shoulder, and, using her momentum against her, forced her flat on her back with a harsh thud. She grunted, annoyed, as he held out his hand to help her up.

"Do you want me to show you what to do next time?" he asked.

She lashed out with her foot, hitting him on the back of his knees and sweeping his legs out from under him. He was caught completely off guard, and toppled, crashing down onto the mat beside her.

"That," he said between breaths, "is not how you do it. But I suppose it's effective."

"You have to break the rules sometimes, Charlie," she replied, panting. "Can't do everything the way you're supposed to all the time."

"In some cases, sure." He climbed to his feet and offered his hand once more—warily, this time. "Like when I stayed after school several times a week for three months to help Mrs. Kramer with her work, to make up for _you _destroying the prized red pepper plants in her garden?"

"One time! That was _one _time! I was only seven—I didn't know they were that valuable."

He laughed and she punched him playfully on the arm. They fell quiet for a moment, still catching their breath.

"I'm glad you're here, Charlie." Holly said a moment later before she could stop herself. "With me. Glad I'm not alone anymore."

He put his arm around her. "Me too. But don't go getting mushy on me or I won't know what to do with you."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged off his arm. "You're all sweaty."

"So are you!"

The ship abruptly shook fiercely, causing Charlie to stumble. A loud alarm began blaring, ringing off the walls of the gym. It was an alarm that Holly had only heard a very small number of times in the entirety of this mission, and it sent chills rocketing down her spine. It meant something was _very _wrong.

They both took off at a run, Charlie leading the way, racing down corridors. Ensign Richards' voice came over the intercom as the pair reached the main turbolift, reporting a major hull breach on starboard C deck and for immediate evacuation of that wing. When the doors opened to the bridge, Holly felt her stomach plummet.

Several of the consoles were smoking, there were panels that were fried and sparking, alarms and lights blaring and flashing in every direction. The ship began to shake and vibrate, and though generally good under pressure, Holly couldn't think what had happened and what she was supposed to do about it.

She hurried forward to her station, and only a few things still seemed to be functioning. Were they under attack? But there was nothing within visual range, and according to the proximity sensors, one of the only things still working, there was no movement within several hundred kilometers.

"Scanners are down," she reported, eyes flicking from screen to screen. "Weapons, grav generator, life support systems—backups are mostly online, but unstable. Extensive damage on C deck, electrical fires, auxiliary nacelles—okay, pretty much _everything _is blinking."

Maybe they had hit a storm with enough magnetic force to throw off all their systems—that would explain why there had been no warning, no lead up, and why the ship was shuddering. It didn't explain why everything was fried, or why most systems were offline with the backups struggling. It didn't explain the particular frown on Charlie's face as he took in the destruction, looking over her shoulder at the various read-outs.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he thought had happened, what they should do next, but he gestured for her to get back into the turbolift at once.

"Charlie, what—"

"Get to the pods," he said sharply. She'd made no move to follow him to the lift so he grabbed her hand and yanked her after him. "Get everyone to the pods right now."

"What _happened_—what possibly could have—?" She wasn't one to panic, but her heart still felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. Going straight to the pods was a last resort type thing, and she couldn't understand what he was seeing that she wasn't.

He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders as the lift descended. "Look at me."

Deep brown eyes met hazel, and she'd never seen him like this—so furious and afraid—which scared her more than the lurching ship.

"Get the rest of the crew and leave in the long range escape pods immediately. Don't go to your quarters for your things, don't try and salvage your garden, don't let anyone go to their battle stations. The moment you're clear of the ship, you broadcast a distress signal on all frequencies and try to contact Starfleet."

"Okay, fine, but Charlie, you're going to be with us—"

He started down the hall the moment the turbolift doors opened.

"Charlie! Where are you going?"

"To get the drive!" he called over his shoulder and took off at a run.

"Shouldn't I go to Engineering instead?"

"No! I'll see you at the pods—_go!_"

Holly knew him well enough to know that there was something major he was neglecting to share with her. She also, however, knew this was one of the few times where she could not disobey him. She sprinted in the other direction to the nearest intercom and sent out a call for all the crew to come to the escape pod bay immediately.

On her way there herself, she almost ran headlong into Jem, whose large eyes were wider than usual.

"What is happening?" she asked.

"The bridge is in shambles," Holly answered breathlessly. "Charlie is on his way to Engineering to get the drive."

"Shambles?"

"Fried, smashed. Hardly anything is working. I don't know what happened and I don't think we have time to wait around and find out."

Suddenly, an explosion went off somewhere in the ship, throwing the pair off their feet. Holly cracked her head on the wall, though not badly. She clutched it and struggled to her knees. Her main concern had been that noise and what possibly could have caused it.

"Come on," Jem said, her voice steely, as she grabbed her friend's arm and yanked her up.

They pounded down the corridor and made it to the escape pod bay moments later, the first ones to arrive.

"Where are the pods?"

"_What?_"

Holly checked the tubes that each pod was supposed to be in, and they were all empty. Every pod had been jettisoned. She felt her stomach drop and her panic rise. Not only was the ship apparently blowing up around them, she had no idea why, and no way to escape it.

At that moment, Kryst came around the corner, bloody and limping. Holly gasped and ran to his side.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I was on C deck, trying to seal off the damaged wing, and then something blew. Pace is dead."

Holly swallowed thickly. At least one crew member was dead. There was a good chance they all would be soon as well, if they didn't figure out what was going on, how to stop it, or how to get off the ship and survive without escape pods.

"We heard the explosion," Jem nodded.

"I don't know what the hell caused it—we're not under attack, are we?" asked Kryst, wincing as the ship shuddered powerfully again.

Holly shook her head.

"Guess the old thing just decided to self-destruct then, hey?" he smirked, and she couldn't help appreciating his ability to try and joke even when all hell was breaking loose.

"There's more bad news," Holly began grimly. "The pods are all gone."

Kryst straightened, scared.

Several crew members came hurrying down the corridor, each asking questions fast and furious—none that Holly or the others had any answers too. Ensign Torres noted the flashing red on the panels above the pod tubes indicating they were empty, and started getting hysterical. Richards' face drained of color, while both Bishop and Ford looked like they were going to puke.

"Everyone stay calm," said Jem firmly as Holly shushed Torres. "The Captain will be here momentarily and we will determine the next course of action."

The crewmembers looked about as unconvinced as Holly felt, but she wasn't about to say anything.

"No he won't," Dal's grizzled voice said above the din and the others turned to face him. He was in a similar state as Kryst: bruised, bloody and limping. His aged face was etched with pain and Holly felt a rush of cold sweep over her as Dal added, "He's dead."

_No,_ she thought, panic threatening to engulf her. _No, he can't be. He's wrong, he's lying. Charlie isn't dead, he can't be _—

"Are you certain?" asked Jem.

Dal's eyes were shining as he nodded grimly.

"No!" Holly screamed, and unable to stop herself, she tried to take off, to find Charlie, to prove he was all right. He was just getting the drive, he would be right back, he would have a plan—_Charlie always had a plan._

Dal caught her in his arms and she fought him, cursing, slapping, and punching like some sort of feral animal.

"Holly, he's dead! He's gone! We have to—"

She didn't get a chance to find out what he was going to say next. A massive explosion ripped through the ship, and for a moment, everything was noise and heat and confusion and chaos. Holly felt her body slam hard into metal, but whether it was the ceiling, floor, or wall, she had no idea. There was shouting and screaming. Alarms were blaring. Someone grabbed her arm. Everything was flashing and spinning. Holly realized she was on the floor and struggled to sit up. Pain shot through her when she moved. She reached out—something was wet on her hands. Torres' eyes were wide with shock, her mouth agape. Richards was missing a limb –

Holly blacked out and everything went blissfully quiet.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n:** Thanks for the feedback and follows, lovelies! I appreciate it so much!

* * *

"Admiral Walker, it's good to see you," Kirk greeted the distinguished looking man on the view screen in the private briefing room.

"And you as well, Captain. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Yes, my first officer told me it was urgent, and in my experience, when Starfleet says 'urgent' it usually means 'bad'."

Admiral Walker nodded before launching into the new mission. A major research vessel called _Chronos_ had ceased checking in the day before, and Starfleet had since received an automated distress signal from the same ship. He explained that attempts to contact the ship had gone unanswered.

"We don't yet know what happened to them—if they were attacked, or if something else went wrong," the admiral continued. "Their last coordinates have them in deep space, and other ships closer to their last known location don't have the resources necessary to perform a rescue operation."

Kirk nodded in understanding. It was something that came with running a ship like this, he supposed. Being one of the biggest, newest and fastest meant sometimes they were the only ones capable to carry out certain missions.

"The warp drive aboard the _Chronos_ is particularly unique and extremely valuable—the data it contains is highly sensitive, and as such, recovering the drive should be the highest priority. Survivors, if any, are of secondary concern."

This seemed cold, even for Starfleet, but Kirk wasn't about to question his orders in front of the Admiral.

Walker went on to further explain that the drive needed to be kept safe, and that the fewer people who knew about it specifically and the data it contained, the better. _Enterprise_ was to bring it straight back to Earth the moment it was in their possession. Kirk was dying to ask what was so special about the information on this drive, but based on how cagey the Admiral seemed about it, Kirk wasn't even sure _he_ knew—the level of classification must have been above even his pay grade.

Admiral Walker signed off with another reminder for discretion and speed, and Kirk called a core group in at once to brief them of the situation. Spock pulled up star charts and marked the last known coordinates of the _Chronos._

"Sir, we can be there in about two days at maximum warp."

"Lay in a course then, Mr. Spock, and let's go pick them up."

* * *

Holly was horizontal, that much was certain. Her head hurt, her arm hurt—in fact, there seemed to be few places that _didn't_ hurt. She struggled to open her eyes and found one was so sore and swollen she could barely see out of it.

"What…" she croaked, her throat dry and scratchy.

"You're awake," she heard Jem's voice and her friend shifted into Holly's view. Her large eyes shone like a cat's in the limited light. "I was worried about you. Here."

She pressed a cup of water to Holly's lips and helped her drink it. As Holly became more aware, she realized they were in a corridor on B deck. She sat up slowly, guided by Jem's strong and gentle hands, to get a better look. The doors at both ends were sealed shut, and the emergency lighting strips were dim, flickering in some spots, casting deep shadows.

Debris littered the hall but had been cleared in the area where Holly and the others were. She could make out a few forms at the far end of the hall, downed as she had been.

Kryst was curled up nearby, sleeping fitfully under a blanket, with his back to her. Dal's back was pressed to the wall opposite her, his legs drawn up, forearms resting on his knees. His face and clothes were caked with dried blood and he was so still, she thought he might be sleeping with his eyes open. Ford and Bishop were a little farther away, and it was difficult to tell in the limited light, but Ford had deep, scabbed gashes all over her face, and was sleeping with her head on her knees. Bishop was laying at her feet, covered with bandages that had long soaked through.

"I have done the best I can on their injuries," said Jem, sounding exhausted. Ship's medic or not, there was only so much you do with so few supplies. "But I can't do more without the rest of the supplies. I've emptied the emergency first aid kit Dal and I recovered on our way here."

"What happened?" Holly asked. "The last thing I remember…" She had to strain for a moment—it was blurry and chaotic—but it slowly came in to focus. The explosions, the ejected pods, Dal—_Charlie_.

She sucked in her breath sharply, and pain shot through her bruised ribs. Holly cried out a little, wrapping her arms over her middle.

"I'm sorry, I had to give the last of the medications to Kryst. I believe he is fighting an infection from his leg injury."

"You didn't answer my question," Holly said softly, when the pain had subsided. "Jem, what happened?"

She almost didn't want to hear the answer—certainly didn't want to hear it confirmed that her brother was dead. As long as someone didn't say it, she could pretend he was all right. Sleeping, down at the end of the hall with others.

"The ship blew apart." Dal spoke up, his voice like gravel, startling Holly. She'd almost forgotten he was there.

"We haven't been able to figure out what caused it," Jem explained. "But as far as we have been able to determine, something caused a chain reaction throughout the ship that destroyed system after system."

"After that last big one in the pod bay, we holed up in here. Seemed the only spot that wasn't completely screwed." Dal shook his head and cast a sad look down the hall. "It's just us now."

Holly felt like she'd been dunked in ice water. Those people, her crewmembers, down at the end of the corridor were _dead_. That left a grand total of six of them still alive, though Bishop certainly didn't look like he was going to make it much longer.

"Ch… Charlie…" she began, her body trembling, her teeth chattering.

Dal turned his pained blue eyes to hers. She'd never seen him so deeply sad. His eyes clouded over and he shook his head. Holly covered her mouth with her hands to stifle the sobs that escaped it, and as her body shook, it was hard to tell what hurt more: her ribs or her heart. She didn't know how long it had been—hours, days maybe—since she'd been knocked out, and suddenly couldn't bear to ask, couldn't bear to do anything except lay her head in Jem's lap and cry quietly into her hands.

After a little while, the crying subsided and she croaked, "How long has it been?"

Dal sighed. "Too long. Someone should've come by now."

"Unless the emergency beacon was damaged too." Jem reminded him grimly.

"The back-ups…?" Holly began.

"Everything was blowing up or shutting down," said Dal. "It's a wonder the life support systems are still online at this point."

"Someone will find us," Jem reassured them. "Someone will find us soon, and we will be all right."

Holly wasn't sure if anything would ever be all right again in that moment. She wished she could believe her.

* * *

When the _Enterprise_ found the_ Chronos_, they didn't need scanners to know the ship was in bad shape. Through the view screen, they could see multiple hull breaches and chunks of debris drifting about near the dead ship. They attempted to hail them, but Kirk wasn't surprised when they received no response.

"Talk to me, Mr. Spock." Kirk swivelled his chair to face his science officer.

"Based on a preliminary scan, it appears most of the upper port corridors have been sealed off, so suits will not be required to traverse that section of the ship." Spock reported, flipping switches and adjusting sensors. "Mr. Scott and his engineering team will need to don space suits, however, to recover the warp drive. It appears the Engineering room itself has been sealed off, but all paths leading to it have been damaged or depressurized. The ship itself is too unstable to risk transporting in."

"Send word to Mr. Scott to prepare his crew and get themselves to Shuttle Pod 1." Kirk instructed. "Sulu, where can they dock to access the ship?"

"The port side looks like our best bet, Captain," said Sulu. "The docking hatches are still intact on that side."

Kirk nodded and turned back to Spock. "Survivors?"

"Scans indicate their back-up life support systems are barely functioning." Spock related. "I'm reading just six bio-signs—five human. The frequencies are faint."

"Bones?" Kirk said over his shoulder to his Chief medical officer. "Grab your stuff—we're in Pod 2."

"Way ahead of you, Jim."

"Chekov, is there a way to tell exactly what happened down there?"

"Not wizout a closer look, Keptin, sir."

"Then let's get a closer look."

* * *

Holly was numb, and not just from the grief and shock—the back-up life support systems that had been hanging on by a thread must've finally quit. Bishop died while they slept, and they couldn't wake Ford.

When Holly had managed to fall asleep earlier, she'd been plagued with nightmares filled with fireballs and chaos. She'd woken up in a sweat, panting and trying to blink away the images still clouding her vision. Dal was in the same position he'd been in since she'd first awakened, and he shot her a knowing look but didn't say anything.

She copied the way he was sitting then, legs drawn up, forearms on knees, and though her body fought for more sleep, Holly refused to give in. She didn't care how exhausted and drained she felt, she wasn't going to face those things again.

"In the war… I've been… look, it could be worse," Dal muttered, awkwardly trying to lend Holly some form of comfort. "It'll be all right."

_All right?_ Why did people keep saying that? No, it wasn't going to be all right. She was freezing, exhausted, numb, starving. The ship was drifting, in pieces, most of the crew dead—all of them, in fact, except herself, Jem, Dal, Kryst and maybe Ford, if she wasn't dead already. And Charlie was dead. She couldn't see how she would be all right any time soon, and she didn't want to hear anyone assuring her it would be.

"Sure." She replied, her voice emotionless. She didn't have the energy for emotion at this point. "Do me a favor, Dal. Don't. You're not good at this."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, though he surprised her and stayed quiet after that.

Holly couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but it felt like an awfully long time. It started to get colder, and maybe it was a little bit of panic setting in at the thought of the life support systems being offline, but Holly could've sworn the air was starting to get thin. The others slept on, and she started to worry they were no longer conscious. By the time the door at far end of the corridor opened, she and Dal were too groggy and numb to do much else than squint at the lights shining their way.

* * *

"Over here!" Kirk gestured over his shoulder for Bones and the handful of crew they'd brought to follow him quickly, towards the clump of people in the middle of the darkened corridor.

Of the six people gathered together, only two appeared to be conscious: an older man, pale and unshaven, and a woman, covered in bruises and scrapes, shivering. The man was bald with a severe gash near his eye, trailing over his ear that had been cleaned and sewn up. There were dried rust-colored smears down his jaw, neck, and shirt. Pieces of his clothes were ripped open, showing multiple less severe wounds.

Kirk approached him first as McCoy hurried to assess the unconscious crew members nearby. "My name is Captain Kirk, of the Starship _Enterprise_. Starfleet sent us here to rescue you."

"Thanks for coming," the man said weakly. He held out his hand, saw how filthy it was and quickly retracted it. "Sorry."

"Not at all," Kirk shook his hand anyways.

"Dal Ealick."

"Good to meet you, Dal." Kirk smiled. "Is this everyone?"

Dal nodded sombrely. "We sealed ourselves in here after the explosions…" He drifted off, glancing down the end of the corridor.

"Hey," Kirk gently placed his hand on Dal's shoulder, careful not to aggravate his injuries. "We'll worry about what happened later. Right now, let's just focus on getting you all out. Can you stand?"

Dal refocused his gaze on Kirk. "More or less."

Kirk helped him to his feet, and handed him off to a nearby ensign. The pair hobbled down the hall and into the next room, where they were promptly beamed aboard _Enterprise_. Once they had determined a place stable enough to use the transporter, Kirk figured it would be easier rather than attempting to shuttle back all the injured. He turned back to the remaining crew.

"Help." The woman rasped.

Kirk crouched down before her. "What's your name?"

"Holly." She answered, struggling.

"Holly, listen to me. We're going to get you out of here, okay?" He said. Her eyelids fluttered. "Stay with me, Holly. It's going to be all right."

Holly blinked hard, trying to focus on the face before her, and her ribs ached sharply. She mumbled, "Hurt..."

"Bones!" Kirk barked and his friend came over at once, his scanner in hand. "Her name is Holly."

McCoy swiftly assessed her injuries, frowning. "Holly, I'm Dr. McCoy. I'm going to take care of you now."

Kirk let Bones do his thing, and lent a hand to the rest of the medical staff in lifting the more injured crew onto stretchers. Of the six bio signs Spock had initially detected, only five were still alive, though all in pretty bad shape to varying degrees. The sooner they got them aboard Enterprise, the better.

As McCoy looked Holly over, tears began sliding down her bruised cheeks.

The doctor glanced up at her in concern. "Hey, it's going to be okay—you're not as bad off as some of the others. I'll have you all fixed up in no time."

She reached out and clutched his hand. "Please, _please_…"

"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle and quiet. "It's okay, I've got you."

Intense exhaustion was pulling at her again and she finally gave in, letting her eyelids slide closed.

McCoy glanced down at his scanner, but her bio signature was holding. He motioned for a stretcher to be brought over, and moved down the corridor to inspect the other bodies. There were at least four dead, not including the man in bloody bandages closer to Holly and the other four now being evacuated. This wasn't including the rest of the ship either, and McCoy expected there were likely more bodies to be found, if the state of the ship was anything to go by.

He frowned and sighed heavily—any loss of life pained him. But there was nothing he could do for them now. Later, after the wounded had been tended to, he would return with some crew members to take care of the dead.

"What do you think happened here?" Kirk asked, coming up behind his friend.

"Good question." McCoy replied.

Kirk flipped open his comm. "Kirk to Engineering—how's it going down there, Scotty?"

"I don't know how else to put this, Captain, but she's alive."

"Sorry, _what_?" Kirk was positive he'd heard him wrong. He glanced at McCoy, who shrugged, just as confused and surprised as Kirk was.

"Alive."

"The warp drive?"

"Aye, Captain," said Scotty. "She's part organic bio-matter—never seen anything like 'er before. Read about, it sure, but thought it was just theory."

"What does that mean to us, Mr. Scott?"

"Means getting 'er out is goin' to be a wee bit more complicated than we thought." The engineer explained. "It's goin' to slow us down, that's for sure."

"How long?"

"Coupla hours, I 'spect."

"Good enough. See you back at the ship. Kirk out." After he'd hung up with Scotty, he turned to look quizzically at McCoy. "Organic _bio-matter_?"

"Don't look at me—I'm a doctor, not an engineer."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n:** Thanks for reading and especially for the feedback! :D Also, that Into Darkness teaser trailer? Asdksd;jhgflaj AWESOME.

* * *

McCoy accompanied the last of the wounded back to the ship, while Kirk and a pair of remaining ensigns took the shuttle. Once back aboard _Enterprise_, Kirk met Chekov, Spock and a few others on the bridge.

"What do we have, ladies and gentleman?" the captain asked.

Spock went first. "Based on the scans I've completed, the ship is not salvageable. The damage is far too severe and wide spread. There are also thirteen more deceased crewmembers at various locations aboard the ship."

Kirk frowned and turned to Chekov. "Do we know what happened down there?"

"Based on ze logs and minimal amount of data we were able to recover," said Chekov. "Ze damage caused seems to have been caused from _inside_. Zere were traces of explosives in some of ze lower decks, though it zeems zome of the charges inflicted only zuperficial damage."

"Were they attacked? Boarded and left for dead?"

"The evidence suggests not." Spock answered.

"But was anything missing? Valuables?" Kirk pressed. "Starfleet said the drive was extremely unique and valuable, so if they were boarded, why not take that? Or at least disable it?"

"Perhaps they didn't know about it." Uhura piped up. "Engineering was sealed off, so it's possible the crew was able to secure the drive before they were boarded."

"I repeat, that there isn't sufficient evidence to suggest another ship was involved." Spock said. "There are no traces of other warp signatures, and as Mr. Chekov stated, the blasts that incapacitated the ship were not exacted from the outside. It appears that the charges we found traces of were mostly situated at strategic locations to create maximum damage."

"Are you saying one of the crew caused this?" Kirk straightened.

Chekov shook his head. "I cannot be certain."

"It was perhaps an accident," Spock put in.

"There were explosive charges set up by accident?" Uhura raised her eyebrow.

"We do not know their function if there _were_ charges, and more precisely, Mr. Chekov only detected traces of explosives. There isn't enough information to suggest a logical conclusion as to why that is." Spock explained. "Aside from that, the ship is nothing like one I have ever seen—internally, it is a very strange mix of both new and old technology. It is quite possible their equipment simply reached its breaking point and failed."

"Seems like a pretty violent breaking point." Kirk said grimly. "Well, we'll know more when I've had a chance to talk to the surviving crew members."

McCoy entered the bridge.

"Speaking of—Bones, report?"

"They all had a laundry list of injuries," said the doctor with a sigh, glancing down at his PADD. "Most of them are easy fixes. The broken bones will take a little longer, of course, and one of the women is in a coma which I'm not sure she'll pull out of. She had extensive internal bleeding."

"Can you determine what caused them?" Spock inquired, wanting to confirm that McCoy's assessment matched up with Chekov's.

"Best guess? The older guy, Ealick, he said something to Kirk about explosions. And by the state of their ship? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together."

The comm crackled to life. "_Scotty to Captain Kirk._"

Kirk nodded to Uhura who pressed a button on the console before her.

"Go ahead, Mr. Scott."

_"We're on our way, Captain."_

"Right. I'll meet you down there, Scotty. Kirk out."

* * *

Kirk headed down to the shuttle pod bay to greet Scotty and his small team of engineers as they were disembarking. The special warp drive from the _Chronos_ was packed up in an enormous crate that required almost six ensigns to slide it from the pod and onto a small hovercarrier.

"Cap'n, you gotta see this." Scotty gestured, his eyes bright with excitement and wonder. He popped open the lid of the crate.

Given Scotty's earlier description of the drive being "alive", Kirk didn't know what he'd been expecting to see, but this was not it.

The drive was huge, tubular, pulsing with coils of light, and humming softly—or buzzing. Neither word was correct for the sound he was hearing, but he couldn't think of a better one. Its core was a strange, shiny grey-green color, and it looked wet and soft to the touch (though he was fairly certain he couldn't be paid enough to touch it). Metal intertwined with what he supposed were "skin" covered darker green tubes, and the various panels seemed out-of-place and arbitrary. Slots for smaller drives were clustered close together towards the bottom, where a clear liquid seemed to be seeping towards the edges of the crate.

Kirk stared, feeling equal parts intrigued, confused, and repulsed.

"Queer bit of business, isn't it?" said Scotty.

"You could say that." Kirk managed and tore his eyes away from the bizarre piece of machinery. "Why would they need this? Why not just have a… _normal_ engine?"

"Well, I've only read the theories," the engineer scratched his head. "I can't be certain."

"Best guess, Mr. Scott."

"She's built to create a dynamic warp field. The theory is that it'll allow a ship to get close to blackholes and singularities, without getting sucked in."

Kirk recalled the disaster with Nero a couple years ago. If Scotty and those theories were right, having this drive aboard and functioning back then would've made the mess much more manageable.

"Wasn't that an isolated incident, caused by Nero and the Red Matter?"

"Science says maybe not." Scotty shrugged. "Maybe this ship was looking for them."

"_Looking _for black holes?"

"It's just a theory."

Kirk couldn't imagine anyone _looking_ for storms and black holes in space, but then again, back on Earth he had been the type to chase a tornado or two, so he supposed it wasn't all that different.

"Oh, and there's sommat else, Cap'n." Scotty reached down his tool box and held up a battered PADD. Its screen was dark, and severely cracked, and the device looked burned. "This was wedged up under the drive's enclosure. Can't have got there without someone deliberately sticking it there."

Kirk took it from the engineer curiously, turning it over in his hands. "Do you think it's salvageable?"

Scotty blew air out his lips, making a skeptical noise. "I doubt it. There might be some undamaged data, but it'll be a helluva difficult task to get it, I s'pect."

Kirk handed the PADD back to Scotty. "See what you can do."

"Aye."

"And Scotty? Keep that—er, _drive_, out of sight, protected, and _private._"

"Aw, but Captain…"

"I know you're dying to gush all about it, Scotty, but we have our orders. The less people that know about the exact nature of the drive, the better. Sorry."

Scotty's shoulders slumped in disappointment but he nodded in understanding.

Kirk next made his way up to sick bay, where McCoy was continuing to tend to the wounded crew from the other ship. He had given them all sedatives to help them sleep, while he administered various hyposprays of medicine. He'd gotten the names of the surviving crew from the older man, Dal, and he passed the information on to the captain. Kirk thanked him and left McCoy to continue his work, promising to check in again soon.

* * *

When Holly opened her eyes, her first thought was that she could see properly—her eye wasn't so swollen anymore. For a quick moment, she felt disoriented as she took in the whiteness of the room around her, until she remembered the rescue. She tried to sit up, and was met with a sharp pain in her ribs.

The doctor, McCoy, came hurrying over and swiftly injected a hypospray of painkilling medication into her arm. "Sorry, your ribs are going to pretty tender for a while."

Holly relaxed as the medicine swept through her. "Wow," she breathed. "That stuff works quick."

McCoy smirked slightly. "It had better. It's expensive. I'm—"

"Dr. McCoy, I remember."

He nodded. "Good." Now that the medicine was in her, he helped her as she eased into a sitting position. "I need you to answer a few questions for me. Do you know your name?"

"Holly Cameron." She answered. She remembered having to go through a similar routine with Jem a year earlier, when she'd tumbled off the ladder in the engine room and been knocked out for several hours.

"D'you know where you are?"

"A Starfleet ship. I don't know the name. I was on the _Chronos._"

"Good. We're the _Enterprise_, by the way. And do you remember what happened before you fell asleep?"

Holly swallowed. She didn't _want_ to remember—her mind flitted between chaos and fire, and a freezing cold hallway with corpses at the end of it.

"Yes." She croaked out, tears blurring her vision.

McCoy regarded her grimly, clenching his jaw. "I'm sorry. I have to ask."

"I understand." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Are the others…?"

Holly turned and could see her friends in some of the beds in the bright sick bay, but was struck by how few there were. She remembered there'd only been six of them—_five_, she silently amended—but it somehow looked like fewer, spread out like this, laying down and covered with sheets and bandages.

"We're taking good care of them," McCoy assured her.

She nodded—she didn't doubt that. "What… what happens next?"

"We're going back to Earth," the doctor replied. "I imagine Starfleet will have new assignments for you all."

Holly nodded again, feeling small and numb. She didn't know what to say and tried not to think, to remember. Dr. McCoy didn't seem to know what else to say either, as he shifted uneasily and glanced over his shoulder. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"You'll all be in sick bay for a little while—a week or so—for observation. Thankfully most of your injuries weren't too severe, so it won't take too long to heal. Your ribs are going to be sore for a couple weeks, but I can give you painkillers to take the edge off."

"Thank you." She murmured.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I can't remember."

"Hmm." McCoy frowned. "I'll have something brought up for you—"

"If it's all the same, I'd like to go back to sleep."

"Of course."

Holly lay back down and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, turning so her back was to the doctor. She appreciated his help, but didn't much feel like dealing with anything at the moment. She shut her eyes, unsuccessfully keeping in tears, and heard his footsteps recede.

It was comforting to hear the calm, muted activity of the sick bay. The soft hum of machines, the sound of the doctor and nurses walking back and forth, filling out paperwork and charts, checking the status of their patients, the faint _whoosh_ of doors opening and closing. Holly wasn't that tired, but she couldn't bear to talk either. She just laid there, letting her mind fall blank as she listened to the gentle noise around her, and eventually she dozed off.

* * *

The following day, when Holly and the others were all awake (and had eaten something, on doctor's orders), they were introduced to the Captain and the first officer. Captain James Kirk was very good looking, with vibrant blue eyes and light brown hair that seemed golden in the right light. Officer Spock was Vulcan, quiet, and very polite. She'd only met a couple Vulcans before and found them to be difficult to read—Spock was no different.

They expressed their grief over the loss of the _Chronos_ and most of its crew, and informed them that the warp drive was secure aboard _Enterprise_. Per Starfleet's orders, they had set a course for Earth and estimated arrival in about six or seven weeks. Kirk apologized for that, but they were too far out, and the _Enterprise_ was having some stability problems with one of their own warp manifolds, so they couldn't push the engines too hard. He promised that his "engineering genius" was working on the problem, however.

Holly had a hard time imagining what would happen when they arrived back on Earth. She'd volunteered for a three-year research mission, and she'd completed only two. Would she be reassigned somewhere else? Sent home? She wasn't a full-trained Starfleet officer like Charlie, so she didn't think the former was likely, but she dreaded the idea of latter. Going home wasn't an option, not now. Not after everything she'd experienced. Not after Charlie.

The Captain also promised them he'd be back the following day to assign them all sleeping quarters. Comforting though the sick bay had been, Holly was anxious to leave it. She'd never been good at staying in one place for too long and was itching to get up and walk around. Holly was eager to be useful, and the captain promised they would talk about duties when McCoy agreed they were healed enough to be put to work. Since the remaining _Chronos_ members were not officially Starfleet trained, it was going to be a bit difficult to assign them work.

After Kirk and Spock left, Holly finally got the chance to talk to her friends. Kryst was in a wheelchair with his leg propped up, while Dal opted to hobble around on crutches. Jem was covered with deep, black bruises, and Ford was still in a coma. Holly approached them, clutching her ribs which were wrapped tight with bandages and found she didn't know what to say. She looked between them, swallowing down emotion—she was glad they were okay, but the hole that Charlie's absence created stabbed at her.

"So, this is all pretty horrible," Kryst eventually said, a bit of a wry smile on his lips. "But could be worse."

He caught Holly's eye and she suddenly felt like laughing. It was something they all took turns saying after particularly rough encounters with storms. After they came absurdly close to dying in some way, in the aftermath when someone was usually injured and they were still shaking, someone would inevitably mumble, _Could be worse_.

Dal chuckled, and before she knew it, they were all laughing and couldn't seem to stop. It wasn't funny, none of it was funny, and yet there they were, laughing so hard they were crying. The medical staff were giving them looks that said they wondered if sedation was needed, and Holly was doubled over, holding her ribs which hurt terribly, but she didn't care—_it could be worse_.

Eventually the laughter died down, and though nothing had changed, she felt inexplicably better.

"God," Holly shook her head. "It's going to be a long week."

* * *

Scotty did the best he could with the fried PADD, but the only salvageable thing was a single audio file. For starters, the recording had been partially damaged and barely recovered. Second, the background noise was incredible, so even the parts that weren't damaged were extremely difficult to make out. All in all, it was nearly impossible to make it out at all.

"Can you enhance?" asked Kirk.

"That _is_ enhanced," replied Uhura.

Kirk frowned and listened hard while she played it again.

_"—Captain Charlie—star log. I'm—engineering—drive—destroy—shore leave—been—" _There was a loud explosion and some muffled cursing before the voice came back on, sounding more frantic. _"Time to explain—proof—drive—down—"_

More noise completely drowned him out, and Kirk wasn't even able to discern bits and pieces after that. It went on for a good minute or two, chaotic and loud. He thought he heard the same male voice yelling, but as everything was so loud, he could've been yelling almost anything. The recording turned to static and went dead a moment later.

"That's the best you can get it?"

Uhura nodded, her mouth set in a grim line.

"It's not exactly a lot to go by," said Kirk, folding his arms over his chest.

Frankly, it was almost nothing to go by. It was easy to gather that something had gone wrong on the ship, that the captain had gone to salvage the experimental drive, and that he seemed to know what was going on. They'd learned as much from Holly and the surviving crew members already, however, so the recording had turned out to be quite unhelpful.

"Play back the last part before the big explosion?"

Uhura rewound the recording and Kirk leaned forward, listening hard, trying to catch more words this time.

_"I'm—engineering—drive—destroy—shore leave—been—"_

"Why is he talking about shore leave when the ship is coming down around him?" Kirk straightened.

"Perhaps it is something he regrets doing or not doing?" Spock suggested.

"Still, if you thought it was your last recording..."

"He also mentions 'proof', later on," Uhura put in. "But proof of what?"

Kirk shook his head, stumped. Without a cleaner recording, they couldn't know what Captain Cameron had been trying to say. He asked Uhura to play it several more times, but they were unable to glean any new information from it.

"Is it possible to clean the recording any further?" questioned Spock.

"It's unlikely, and it will probably take a while, but I can try." Uhura answered.

"Just do what you can." Kirk said and she nodded again.

* * *

Before McCoy began cleaning up sick bay late that night, he checked over Ford's charts one more time, frowning. He heard movement behind him and turned to see Kryst in his wheelchair coming over. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, tensing with each pull of the wheels.

"Doc, how is she?" he asked.

"She could be better," McCoy replied. "The internal bleeding is in under control, but she's still comatose."

Kryst rolled up to Ford's bedside and clenched his jaw.

"We're doing everything we can," said McCoy softly, trying to offer the man some comfort. He wasn't particularly good at this part.

Kryst laughed abruptly, sharp and loud. "God, it all fell apart, didn't it?" He shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

McCoy wished he knew what to say. He hesitated for a moment, then proceeded to carry on with his nightly routine.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n**: Thanks for the views, reviews and favs, kids! I appreciate them all. Hobey ho, let's go.

* * *

It was not a good week for Holly, being cooped up in sick bay, even without taking her healing ribs into account. She did a lot of sleeping, and made small talk with the nurses. She spent time chatting with her friends, which in many ways was a welcome distraction from her situation—she could argue with Dal about who burned the stew for Bishop's birthday last month, or talk in ridiculous detail about the newest developments in warp engines with Kryst, who was still complaining about being in a wheelchair—and yet a constant reminder about what went wrong to bring them to this point.

She took her medication without complaint, and by the time McCoy cleared her to leave sick bay, her ribs were much improved. The bruises were almost entirely gone from her face and limbs, and she couldn't help wondering what exactly was in the stuff he'd given her—she'd never healed this fast back on the _Chronos_. Still, the doctor instructed her to rest as much as possible.

Holly was assigned shared quarters with Jem, and they settled in easily, since they had almost no possessions. Several _Enterprise_ crew members had gone back to _Chronos_ to deal with the dead, as well as to try and recover any of the crew's things. The majority of the living quarters had been damaged by fire, and few possessions remained. She and Jem had a small bag of clothes each, Kryst had a backpack full of clothes and miscellaneous items, and Dal nothing—none of his things survived the fires. Holly didn't have many possessions, but she'd had a box of keepsakes and she mourned its loss.

She couldn't stop thinking about Charlie, which made her feel like she was drowning. She tried to distract herself, but her options were pretty well limited to talking to Jem or playing with a deck of cards. She'd had a variety, at least, back on _Chronos_, but they were all gone now. Twice a day she went up to sick bay to visit with Kryst, whose leg was still healing, but those visits could only last so long.

She was exhausted from fighting sleep—sleep meant nightmares. It'd been easier in sick bay. After so many hours of being awake, McCoy would usually have to give her something to help her sleep without dreams. The few times he hadn't, she'd woken up screaming and needed sedation anyways.

In the meantime, Holly was bored. She was wearing out the cards and had invented about seven or eight pointless one-player games to keep herself entertained. Jem slept a lot and meditated more, both signs that she was struggling to deal with the stress of recent events as well. When they did talk, it was never about what happened.

Meal time was at least a chance to get out of the room, which was a welcome relief. The only problem was that she knew no one past her fellow _Chronos_ survivors in the crowded mess hall, and they hardly felt like socializing. They would make light conversation, full of small talk, while she picked at her food and wished she was back in her room.

Her other opportunity to leave her room came with the regular check-ups she was required to have with Dr. McCoy, who was gruff and professional. She liked him anyways; he made her feel safe and he didn't give her _the look_ that she seemed to get from everyone else. The one that was sympathetic and knowing and a little unsure. The one that made her want to scream _I'm fine_ when everyone—including Holly herself—knew she was anything but.

As her second week aboard _Enterprise_ came to a close, Holly realized something had to be done, or she was going to go insane. That conversation with captain about work needed to happen sooner rather than later. The others agreed with her—aside from Jem, no one could be idle for so long. At her next check-up, Holly requested a meeting with the Captain and McCoy said he'd pass on the message.

* * *

"Bones tells me you have something to talk to me about?" Kirk said, plopping down in one of the chairs and clasping his hands behind his head.

"Sir, I want to thank you first for your hospitality. I know you were just following orders when you brought your ship to rescue us, but we owe you our lives."

Kirk inclined his head. "All part of the job, Miss Cameron."

Holly took a deep breath, trying to recall the words she'd practiced with Jem earlier. "We don't wish to be any more of an imposition than we already have, but… if I—we—could be useful—have a job to do…

_So much for being articulate._ She thought with a wince.

"I don't want to be in the way, but I can't just sit around doing nothing either." She shifted uneasily. "I know you wanted us to wait, but, frankly sir, if I don't have something to do, I'm going to go completely out of my skull."

Dal cleared his throat beside her and she could feel him giving her a reproachful sideways look. She ignored him, focused on the captain, unsure how he would respond.

Kirk smiled wide, surprising her. "I completely understand what you mean."

Holly almost exhaled with relief.

"What are your specialty fields?" asked Spock.

"Mechanics, mainly," Holly answered. "I also took care of the hydroponics garden on _Chronos_. We all were involved with general upkeep, cleaning and maintenance of the ship."

"I'm good with electronics," said Kryst. "I helped Holly a lot with fixing the engines too, and sometimes I cooked the meals."

"I can be wherever you can use me, sir." Dal's stance was sharp and erect, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm a bit of a Swiss army knife."

_Old military habits die hard, _Holly thought and added, "He was our primary pilot."

Jem went next, her voice low and mellow. "I shared piloting and meal preparation duties, though I was chiefly the ship's medic."

"We all were tactical support and logistics, too," Holly finished. "We had overlapping duties, in case… in case something happened."

Spock nodded. "As you are not officially Starfleet trained, it is difficult to assign you official positions aboard _Enterprise_. However, if the Captain approves, if Dr. McCoy clears you all for duty, and if we can find a suitable position for you, then we shall be able to authorize you for temporary crew member status aboard the _Enterprise_."

The doors to the meeting room slid open with a muted _whoosh _and a man in a red shirt hurried in.

"Captain, sorry to interrupt, but the, er—there's a problem with the…"

"It's all right Mr. Scott," Kirk said. "Everyone here knows about the drive."

"Right, well. She's _leaking_, Captain."

Kirk scrunched his eyebrows together. "Wasn't it doing that when you brought it on board?"

"Aye, but the liquid was clear, and it was just a wee bit before. Now it's… murky and sorta brown. An' more'n a bit."

Kirk shuddered.

"Haven't you been feeding it?" asked Holly.

Kirk and Scotty both turned and stared at Holly incredulously.

"_Feeding_ it?" the captain was horrified.

"Sure. It's bio-matter, it needs sustenance just like you and me."

"What, so we should make it a sandwich—"

Kryst laughed loud and Holly chuckled.

"Okay, not _exactly_ like you and me." She clarified. "It takes a sort of sugar mixture. You administer it like giant eyedrops on the core's skin. The residue is turning brown and seeping out more than usual because it's starving."

Scotty and Kirk were still staring, but the engineer managed to speak first. "Captain, if it's all right with you, I could really use a hand tryin' to fix—feed—the, uh, drive."

"Be my guest." He gestured to Holly, and she followed the engineer from the room.

* * *

After the rest of the _Chronos_ crew had been dismissed to return to their quarters, Spock faced Kirk.

"If we are to give them access to the ship, Captain, I must advise we perform a background check via Starfleet's employee database." The Vulcan suggested.

Kirk nodded. "Probably a good idea. Get on it, Mr. Spock. I don't need to see the results—I trust your judgement—but inform me if there's cause for concern."

"Understood."

"Has Uhura made any more progress with that recording?"

"I do not believe so, sir. She has put it through the audio scrubbing matrix several times, with no different results. I suggested we attempt a new method, which may take more time, but also ought to produce more favorable results."

"Let me know if you find anything new." Kirk said, and the Vulcan inclined his head in acknowledgment and exited the meeting room. Kirk lingered for a moment.

_Frankly, sir, if I don't have something to do, I'm going to go completely out of my skull._

He chuckled. _Sounds like something I would say,_ he thought.

Maybe it was too early to tell, but he was fairly sure that he was going to like Holly Cameron.

* * *

Holly and the chief engineer, Montgomery Scott, whom everyone called Scotty, had went first to the kitchens to retrieve vinegar, sugar and lemon juice. Next they'd stopped at a supply room where Holly grabbed a can of engine oil, a container of nacelle coolant, and a bottle for administering the mixture.

Scotty brought Holly down to Engineering, and into a moderately sized back room where they were keeping the drive. Nearby was another perplexed engineer, a green-skinned woman with fiery red hair named Gaila, who had greeted Holly cheerfully by asking _So, what the hell is this?_ when Holly had handed her the bottle of foul-smelling liquid. Holly showed them how and where to spread the liquid over the core, and as it dried, the residue dripping into the drainage trays below the engine began to slow and turn back to its natural clear state.

"It's okay, you can touch it."

"It's no' going to hurt it?"

"Not at all. It's extremely resilient."

"And it won't hurt _you?_" Scotty asked uncertainly.

"Not even a little." Holly smiled and reached between the brightly lit coils to lay her hand on the core. "See?"

Scotty looked a little wary, but mostly curious and excited, so he copied Holly's motions and put his hand down gently near hers. Gaila gasped quietly beside him, covering her mouth.

"Crivvens! It's _cold_!" He exclaimed. "I wasn't expectin' it be cold."

Holly laughed at his reaction. His eyes lit up with wonder and he softly moved his hand back and forth, getting a feel for the thing beneath it.

"What does it feel like?" Gaila asked as she pulled her hand away from her mouth and stared.

"See for yourself," Holly encouraged.

Gaila looked even warier than Scotty had, but at his nod, she brushed her fingertips over the engine before gingerly settling her palm onto it as well.

"It's sort of… damp, isn't it? Not wet, but not… dry, either." She said, peering with interest at the machine.

"Something is wrong if it ever gets dry," Holly explained. "It'll start cracking, and if it gets too dry, it'll stop functioning. Or if the feeding solution is wrong, it's equivalent to poisoning it. Another problem is if these coils get overloaded. They'll fry, and scorch the core. It's resilient, like I said, but there's still a lot of things that can go wrong."

Scotty moved his face closer and Holly couldn't help smiling at the look of pure wonder on his face. Most of the _Chronos_ crew refused to go near it, and Holly hadn't really had anyone who shared her interest of the thing as much as Scotty and Gaila seemed to. It was exciting to find a pair of kindred spirits.

They lapsed into detailed talk about how exactly it worked for more than hour, which soon flowed into a conversation about various engines and the type of technology aboard their respective ships. By the end of their chat, Scotty said he was going to insist that Holly come work in Engineering with him and his crew.

"No sense you stayin' holed up in your quarters or put to work somewhere else when you have the know-how for the likes of this," he said. "An' besides, we could use a hand."

* * *

"Captain," Spock pulled Kirk aside in the corridor on the way to the bridge. "I have the information you requested."

The captain followed his first officer to a briefing room. Once there he asked, "So, do I have any reason to be concerned?"

"Perhaps," Spock replied.

He proceeded to run down the _Chronos_' surviving crew members, summarizing the highlights (and lowlights) he had discovered in their respective files. He left out the file of the woman, Ford, who was still in a coma in sick bay.

Dal Ealick was from Velesse III, a planet with 18 hour long nights and 8 hour long days, riddled with instability and war. He had served in the planet's military, fighting in wars that sometimes lasted as long as ten years straight at a time. Divorced and retired, he had volunteered for the _Chronos_ research mission when Velesse III finally entered peace time for more than four years.

Kryst O'Merrin was originally from a desert planet called Dayis, but escaped to Kaerth Prime with his parents at a young age when war broke out. He had a number of minor offenses on his record from when he was a teen, though nothing that had ended in jail time. He had spent a couple years repairing electronics before he signed up for the _Chronos_ mission.

Holly Cameron's file read similar to Kryst's. She was born on Corinth IV with her brother Charlie Cameron. As a teen, she had had a laundry list of minor offenses, and, based on her record, she only got into more trouble after he departed for post-secondary school. She was another volunteer.

Jem Zrillix's file was perhaps the most interesting: she had ended up on _Chronos_ through a bargain with local authorities on P'the. Though she was raised in the woods of Saxis, Jem had had a run in with the wrong senator in a town where hunting carried a very severe penalty. For killing a number of the senator's rare, prized deer, she was sent to the local prison. After two months she chose to finish out her sentence aboard the _Chronos_—a ship following in the footsteps of two previously failed, unreturned missions.

"Colorful crew, aren't they?" Kirk said, shaking his head. He ran his hand through hair, thinking. "Do you think it's a good idea to give them temporary crew status?"

Spock titled his head. "While it seems all of them have one offense or another, they are all quite far in their past. Their records show no indication of recent incidents that would suggest their access be completely restricted, or that they should not be trusted. However, as they have not gone through proper Starfleet training, it would be wise to _limit_ their access."

"I think so, too. I don't suppose you managed to find out more about what exactly the _Chronos'_ mission was? Or what is so special about the drive we're rushing back to Earth?"

"That, I'm afraid, was classified." Spock replied and Kirk's shoulders dropped a little in disappointment. "Apparently even our clearance is not high enough to access the files needed."

"I guess we'll just have to ask the crew."

"I would advise against it," Spock said with a slight raise of his eyebrow. "If the files are restricted, the crew is likely not at liberty to clarify anything."

Kirk frowned. Spock was right, he supposed, but that only made him more curious. He figured there was no harm in asking anyways—if they weren't allowed to say, then that would be that. He hoped he would have the opportunity to find out what was so secret, but he wasn't about to count on it. In all likelihood, when they reached Earth, he would simply hand over the drive and the crew and be sent on his way, none the wiser. That was a frustrating thought.

One way or another, he was going to find out why that drive was so important.

* * *

At supper later that evening, Kirk approached the _Chronos_ table.

"Miss Cameron, I've just had a conversation with Mr. Scott, and he requests that you report to him in Engineering for training tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

Holly smiled. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

He returned her smile and turned to the others. "I hope to find positions for the rest of you by the end of this week. You'll have restricted access because you are not official crew members, but you will be able to get at what you need. I thought after dinner, I could give you the tour?"

Dal nodded. "Yes sir, that will do just fine."

As the captain headed away, Holly had to stop herself from staring. He was really attractive, and she wanted to flirt with him. It'd been a long time since she'd seen some proper eye candy—the sight was like handing food to someone starving. In fact, she was pretty sure the last time she'd been attracted to someone was the pub on Ugritte more than a year ago, but that had ended in Charlie punching the guy and Dal yelling at her and Kryst for causing trouble.

She pulled her attention back to her friends. Jem shot her a little smirk to say that Holly's obvious gaze had not gone unnoticed, but the other two were idly chatting and unaware. She pushed away the twinge of pain that came whenever she thought of Charlie and was soon arguing good-naturedly with the others about the merits of the 80-04's versus the 80-10's.

* * *

**A/n:** Oh yes - that was definitely a Firefly reference. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

The tour of Enterprise was amazing—Holly had never been on a ship with so many decks. The _Chronos_ hadn't been small, exactly, but it seemed miniscule by comparison.

There was a massive gym, with a number of separate areas and rooms, a variety of work-out equipment, weights, punching bags, sparring mats and more.

The mess hall was brightly lit, filled with large round tables surrounded by chairs, and one wall had a row of windows framing the stars that dotted the blackness of space. Crew members were scattered about, some in line at the food replicator— something _Chronos_ had been lacking—while others grabbed food from a wall of refrigerated and heated shelves, or sat at the tables. Kirk explained that at regular mealtimes, the on-board kitchen staff prepared a full meal which most of the crew congregated to eat. Because of certain duties and shifts, it wasn't always possible for crew to attend the regular meals, but there was always all kinds of food available at any hour.

"So if you're craving a midnight snack, feel free to come and satisfy that craving." Kirk smiled.

"Mine tend to be more three-in-the-morning snacks," said Holly.

"Well, then you can satisfy your three-in-the-morning cravings."

"Have you got cookie dough ice cream and chocolate syrup?"

"Ah, I see you have very good taste. Our replicator can make pretty well any food you can think of. The database has something like seventy-eight thousand alien dishes too, if you're looking to try something exotic."

"I love trying new things," Holly replied, shooting her best flirty smile at Kirk, and added, "Especially at three in the morning."

Kirk chuckled, grinning back, and started forward again, continuing the tour.

Holly soon began to lose track of the various wings and their purpose; she wasn't sure she'd be able to remember where they were when the tour was over. But then the last highlight of the tour was _Enterprise_'s hydroponic garden.

"Oh wow…" Holly breathed.

"Garden" seemed like such a small, silly word for it. The space was expansive—she couldn't tell how large the room was, but it seemed enormous, with flowers everywhere, and rows upon rows of plants of all colors. There was a huge section off to the left devoted to fruits and vegetables—deep troughs with potatoes and carrots, supports with tomatoes and peas, short trees bearing apples and oranges, and more. Off to the right, in amongst all the greenery, was a set of stairs lined with vines leading up to a number of connected catwalks overlooking the entire thing. She felt like she was standing at the entrance to a jungle and forgot entirely that this was contained inside a ship in space.

It made the garden she'd so lovingly tended back on _Chronos_ look like a broom closet by comparison.

"What do you think?" asked Kirk.

"I _can't._" She answered, speechless, as she tried to take it all in.

"Very impressive," Jem said behind her. "I've never seen its equal."

"Part of the purpose is of course fresh food," Kirk explained, gesturing to the vegetable and fruit section. "A lot of the plants in here have medicinal properties, and there's an herb garden in the back section. Many of the plants have other uses, like extracts used in chemical compounds. We can even use some of them to generate natural energy for a few of the smaller wings of the ship."

Holly was still in awe as she listened to Kirk, and was immediately drawn to how knowledgeable he sounded. In her experience, captains tended to see the big picture of their ships. They were the head of the ship, they managed the crew as a whole in the context of their missions. Even Charlie didn't know the inner workings of his ship, the individuals, the details—not to this level, anyway. She didn't know if that was just her having only met lesser captains (though she refused to think of her brother that way), or if Kirk was more special. She was leaning towards the latter.

"We even have a couple benches here and there," Kirk continued. "Sometimes crew members like to come in and just enjoy the garden, read a book, take a walk between the rows or up on the catwalk."

Holly pried him for more details for several minutes, until she caught sight of Kryst looking very bored and Dal looking irritated, and apologized.

"Don't apologize," said the captain. "It's nice to have someone on board who's this passionate about the garden. Most of the people who work in this sector enjoy it, but not to the level it sounds like you do."

Holly flushed a little. "It's something I've always loved—always been good at."

"Don't hesitate to come here any time you want."

A short time later, the tour was over, and Kirk returned to the bridge. He bid them goodbye when they reached the corridor where their quarters lay while Jem and Kryst were still discussing the things they'd seen.

"This ship is so amazing." Holly exhaled, still smiling as she remembered the beautiful garden. She knew exactly where she was going to start spending her downtime from now on.

"Looked like you thought more than just the ship was amazing," Dal grumbled with irritation. "You couldn't stop flirting with the captain like a little schoolgirl."

Holly whipped her head to the side to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, princess," Dal rolled his eyes. "Grinning like an idiot, giggling at all of his jokes, fawning and drooling. It was pathetic."

"I was being nice!"

"Is that what you call it?"

Holly felt her face grew hot and cursed her body for betraying her. All right, so maybe she had been flirting _a little_ with Kirk, but he was gorgeous, and her time on his ship was limited, so why shouldn't she? There was no reason to think anything would develop because of it, and who was Dal to make her feel stupid for wanting a distraction?

"You're just jealous that he's young and interesting." She shot back a moment later.

"I was young and _interesting_ once, sweetheart, and I have nothing to be jealous about. At least I can manage to maintain some professionalism."

"Is that what you call it?" said Holly coolly.

Dal glared.

"Give it rest." Kryst groaned from behind them.

Dal grunted but otherwise didn't reply, so Holly stayed quiet as well, satisfied she'd gotten in the last word this time.

* * *

Holly had trouble sleeping again that night. After the second time she woke up in a cold sweat, she decided there was no point trying to sleep again and broke out the playing cards. She struggled to keep herself distracted and entertained, and by the time 5 AM rolled around, she couldn't take it any longer. She got dressed and exited the room.

When she entered the garden, Holly wondered why she hadn't come straight here. It was peaceful, full of plant life, and deserted. She made her way slowly down the aisles and paths between the trees and flowers, engulfed in a sense of calm that she hadn't felt in weeks. Her eyes landed on a clump of bright red and white flowers and she smiled at the sight.

They were Asiska blossoms—her favorite flower. They were tall with thin stems and wide, drooping petals, colored like they'd been splattered with paint. Holly leaned down to inhale their scent which was fresh and sweet. It reminded her home.

Swallowing down the emotion rising in her chest, Holly continued down the aisles. She noticed some of the Magorium orchids towards the back were looking dehydrated, so retrieved a sleek silver watering can from the shelves by the vegetable garden and filled it with recycled water.

The gentle _whoosh_ of the doors opening alerted her that she was no longer alone. Holly turned around and saw Dr. McCoy striding purposefully in. When she greeted him, he jumped in surprise, cursing softly under his breath.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I just wasn't expecting anyone else in here at this hour. It's usually dead empty until at least oh-seven hundred," he elaborated. "What are you doing here?"

Holly sighed, joining him. "Trouble sleeping. I needed to clear my head. Then I noticed some of the plants needed some watering."

McCoy nodded, making a _hmm_ noise.

"What are _you _doing here so early, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Herbs." McCoy held up the small bin he was carrying, full of empty containers. "I come in to harvest some herbs and medicinal plants for treatments."

"Do you need any help?"

McCoy raised his eyebrow, but said, "If you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

The doctor led her to the modest herb garden towards the back of the garden room, and together they knelt on mats and he showed her what to do. Once she'd got the hang of it, he asked about her ribs.

"Better," she answered. "I can move quite a bit more with much less pain."

"Good. Sounds like you're healing quickly. How are the nightmares?"

Holly hesitated. As the ship's doctor, he had every right to ask, of course, and she _had_ said she'd been having trouble sleeping when he'd come in earlier. He noted her pause, however, and grunted.

"Miss Cameron—"

"Holly." She corrected.

"Fine. _Holly._ There's no point lying to me—anyone can see the bags under your eyes, and I had you in my sick bay for a week, so I know how often you woke up thrashing." He eyed her. "I take it the dreams haven't subsided?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice to explain that though she'd never seen Charlie die on _Chronos_, she saw him die in horrific ways every night.

"I'm sure they'll go away in time," she said.

"I'm sure they will too. But as your doctor, I want to remind you that there are options: if you need someone to talk to, that can be arranged."

"I don't need therapy." She hadn't meant to sound so angry about the idea. She had no problem with other people getting therapy, but she didn't need it. She had no desire to _talk_ about what happened and how she felt about it. Talking meant thinking about it, meant remembering what actually happened, meant recalling the images her subconscious made up, and that was precisely what she was trying to escape in the first place.

McCoy frowned. "It doesn't have to be _therapy—_but you should talk to someone."

"I'll think about it."

They continued working in silence for several minutes, Holly feeling a bit guilty for being cold. He was the doctor, he was only doing his job and only trying to help. But she was fine—or would be, and talking about it wasn't going to help anything.

"How is Ford doing?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No change," McCoy shook his head, frowning again. "We'll just have to wait and see how it goes."

Holly nodded. She'd gone to sick bay twice to visit Ford but hadn't stayed long. She felt awkward, guilty, and helpless at her friend's bedside, and though Nurse Chapel said talking was encouraged, Holly felt self-conscious speaking to Ford's unmoving form.

About half an hour later, McCoy's containers were full. They washed off their hands and he bid her goodbye, saying nothing about their earlier conversation. She went back to watering the plants and by the time other crew members began arriving, it was time for her to report to Engineering.

* * *

"How was your first day working on a _real_ ship?" Kryst asked, the moment Holly set her tray down at dinner.

"Glorious." She grinned.

Holly had spent most of the day simply being trained and instructed by Gaila and had yet to do anything hands on, but it had still been immensely interesting. The technology on _Enterprise_ was outstanding. She still couldn't get over how large the warp manifold was compared to the one on _Chronos_, or how easy it was to access the anti-matter junctions for the port nacelles.

"And you?"

Kryst, who had been assigned to a squad of electricians within Engineering, returned her grin. "_Chronos_ has nothing on this place. I've never seen so many panels in my life. Ensign Barrow figures by next week I'll be familiar enough with the system to try my hand at some of the minor repairs."

They launched into a technical discussion about the various machines they learned about that day, in their excitement momentarily ignoring Jem and Dal when they arrived. Jem began eating without comment, but Dal seemed to grow more cross by the minute until finally Holly noticed and snapped at him,

"What, Dal? What is it now?"

"Oh, hi, Holly. Nice to see you, too. "

Holly rolled her eyes. "I was talking with Kryst. Excuse me that I didn't greet you properly. Besides, I thought we agreed not to _'pander'_ to each other."

Kryst shot her a look, Dal huffed, and Jem opted to stay silent. Holly struggled with herself for a moment before asking in what she hoped wasn't too clipped a tone,

"How _was_ your day, Dal?"

Kryst seemed placated and though Dal was still irritated with her, he answered anyways.

"Thanks for asking, _princess_. It was swell."

Holly bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed. Dal and Jem had yet to be assigned something to do, so she knew Dal had spent his day doing nothing. She wanted badly to make a comment, especially after he used his favorite—and her _least_ favorite—nickname, but Kryst was already shooting her a warning glance, so she swallowed hard and forced herself to change the subject.

* * *

Kirk wasn't trying to be rude, but the case study about lungworms that McCoy was describing was more repulsive than interesting, and therefore not exactly great dinner conversation. He'd tried twice to steer the conversation elsewhere, but McCoy was apparently quite fascinated by this case, so Kirk decided to let him get it out of his system.

"It also said that _rosemary, _of all things, had proven to be effective when mixed with a saline solution and taken orally, so I went down to the herb garden to get some this morning. Holly Cameron was there, actually, and she helped—"

"Hmm?" Kirk perked up immediately without realizing it.

McCoy set his fork down, almost rolling his eyes and sighing. "Jim, you're unbelievable."

"What? Rosemary, saline, orally—see? I was listening."

"That's not what I'm talking about. You've been sitting there looking dazed while I blathered on, and the minute I mention some girl's name," he snapped his fingers. "You're back."

Kirk opened his mouth to protest but couldn't argue with his friend. All right, it was a weakness of his, so what? Bones knew that, he shouldn't have been surprised.

McCoy fully rolled his eyes. "Is it a fresh meat thing? She's new, and you haven't seen her before, so she's mysterious and interesting, is that it?"

"Geez, Bones, you make me sound so shallow."

"You _are_ shallow."

"I'm hurt."

"You are not."

"All right, I'm not. But I'm not shallow either—well, not _that_ shallow."

"Just stay away from this one, Jim."

"Why, do have your eye on her, Bones?" Kirk teased, grinning at his friend, who didn't smile back.

"I'm serious. We're on a mission—"

"We're _always_ on a mission."

"And she has just been through a _major _trauma—she lost her brother and most of her friends—and the last thing she needs is some… _dashing_ idiot to try and charm her."

"You think I'm dashing?"

McCoy shook his head, grumbling. "You're _unbelievable_."

Kirk took pity on his friend, laughing and clapping him on the back. "Relax, Bones. There's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," McCoy frowned. "I've heard that one before."


	7. Chapter 7

By the end of the week, Holly's ribs felt almost entirely healed. Though the medicine aboard_ Chronos_ had been fine and Jem skilled, whatever McCoy had was much better. He still advised her to take it easy and she promised she would, but she was dying to try out the gym facilities.

She started slow, just an hour one evening, another the next, trying out the equipment and attempting to beat the punching bag into a pulp. Like being in the garden, she felt calmer, but better than that, she felt engaged. If she could tire herself out enough, she'd sleep like a rock—and dreamlessly.

Though a steady stream of other crew members would come and go throughout the evening, no one bothered her, until the fourth night.

"Want a partner?"

Holly looked up from the bag she was currently pounding to see Kirk striding across the gym wearing workout gear. She privately thought it was unfair for one person to be so handsome, especially in clothes like that, and promptly faced the punching bag.

"I'm just about done—thanks for the offer, though. Besides, Dr. McCoy told me to take it slow."

"It doesn't look like you take it _slow_ on anything," he chuckled. "Personally, I find one of the best workouts is a good spar session."

She clenched her jaw briefly, remembering the last day on the _Chronos_. "I used to spar with my brother, Charlie. He was teaching me."

Kirk winced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault everything reminds me of him." She smiled a little, wryly, then added, "Actually, I _would_ like to spar. I'm a bit rusty—I could use the practice."

_And the distraction,_ she added silently. _I can always use more distraction._

Holly and Kirk moved to the mats and she started stretching.

"Well, not to brag, but I used to be the assistant instructor in hand to hand combat." Kirk flashed her a cocky grin.

"Go easy on me, or Dr. McCoy will have your head."

"I'll try." He laughed.

They crouched, alert and ready to strike. Charlie tried to teach her again and again not to make the first move, but he was always far more patient than she was—and so, apparently, was Kirk. Holly darted forwards, immediately swinging out with a sharp right jab. Kirk blocked her and they circled each other, dodging and jabbing, feeling out their respective style.

Kirk lashed out, getting through her guard with a glancing blow off her left shoulder and she countered with a swift combination move that had him stumbling backwards to avoid her kick.

"Nice one," he panted and moved in again.

She could tell at once that at the beginning of this session, he'd been going _very_ easy on her. He immediately upped the ante, hitting with quick precision, blocking her fists from touching more than his forearms. Frustrated, she increased her own speed, trying to get through his guard, and the infuriating smile that grew on his face only irritated her more.

"Stop that," she snapped.

"Stop what?" he leaned back to avoid her left hook. "You're the one who's getting sloppy."

Holly dropped suddenly and swept her leg out, but Kirk deftly hopped and avoided it. She rolled away, hoping for a moment to breathe as she popped up onto her feet, but he wasn't going to allow her one. He charged, stepping tight to her, making it hard for her to deflect his jabs.

When one his fists connected with her ribs, she reeled away from him. He was immediately apologetic.

"Are you all right? I didn't mean—"

It hadn't hurt very much, truly, and she was happy to catch him off guard as he came close, worried he'd reinjured her. She aimed a kick his way which landed solidly above his stomach, causing him to make an _oof _sound and be back on the defensive, twisting away to block her incoming blows.

"That wasn't very nice," he said between breaths.

"I should have told you—I don't tend to play by the rules." She replied, and he grinned widely.

She ducked under his arm as he threw another punch her way, spinning and pressing in close, locking her arms around him from behind. She twisted, using her weight and momentum to put him off balance and they tumbled to the mat. They grappled for a moment, and then she was on top of him, knees on his shoulders, hands holding down his.

For a small moment, they were winded and staring at each other. She was about to declare that she'd won, when he abruptly broke the hold she had on his arm, hooked it under her thigh and used his legs to flip them so she on the bottom, completely pinned under his body.

His face was close, and they were both panting.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. She couldn't take her gaze away from his brilliant blue eyes and had the urge to kiss him. She swallowed it—_he's the Captain, Holly—_and instead breathed,

"Nice moves, Captain."

He blinked, as if snapping out of a daze, and hastily stood up. "You're not so bad yourself." He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

She could feel the blush burning her face and hoped he thought it was just from their sparring session.

"Having a good partner always helps," she said, smiling. She heard Dal's remark to her the other day in her head: _You couldn't stop flirting with the captain like a little schoolgirl... It was pathetic._ She cleared her throat, letting the smile disappear. "Well, I should… be going."

"Right." Kirk scooped up a towel and mopped his face with it. "I'll see you around."

She waved and hurried out the gym, cursing Dal silently all the way back to her quarters.

* * *

During their next sparring session a couple days later, Holly fared a bit better at first, managing to pin him down at least twice. Kirk was just as competitive as she was, however, and he was quick to learn her style and adapt to it accordingly. She was good, he thought, but he was better.

Holly kept calling him Captain, and he had to keep reminding her to call him Jim because it felt strange to be _Captain_ while he was dodging her jabs and tackling her to the mat. They stopped for a break to gulp some water.

"So, Holly, what's the deal with the drive?" Kirk asked. He figured there was no point beating around the bush. Now was as good a time as any to question her about it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, besides the fact that it is one bizarre piece of machinery," he said. "Why is it so important to Starfleet that we rush it back to Earth?"

Holly winced. "I'm sorry, Jim. We had to sign a stack of contracts and confidentiality agreements when we were brought on board _Chronos_. I'm not allowed to say."

He nodded, disappointed but unsurprised.

"I'd _like_ to tell you, but…"

"No, I understand," Kirk replied. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

Holly laughed. "I do enough of that on my own—I definitely don't need your help." She punched him playfully on the arm.

After they finished sparring and they were towelling off, Kirk told her a story about when he was younger. He had tended to use his spare time for breaking things—like the time he'd "borrowed" his step-father's car and drove it off a cliff.

Holly gasped, covering her mouth, as he spoke. "You didn't!"

Kirk laughed. "I absolutely did. I threw open the door and just jumped out. The car kept going, right over the edge. I almost went over too, but I managed to hang on."

"And the cop?"

"Asked me for my name, and I gave it to him."

She giggled. "What happened next?"

"I got a ride home from the cop—not my first, I'll admit—and I was grounded for about six months. My stepdad was pretty furious."

Holly laughed again at the image of young Kirk.

"Well," she said. "I've never driven a car off a cliff, but there _was_ this one thing with a package of illegal fireworks and a toilet in the boy's dormitory."

"Do tell."

Holly shook her head. "Oh, you're so not ready for that story yet."

They left the gym together, laughing and teasing one another.

* * *

"What?"

McCoy didn't reply, but he had that _look _on his face—the one Kirk knew too well. The one that said McCoy disapproved of something Kirk was doing or had something to say and wasn't saying it.

"_What, _Bones?"

McCoy took another bite of his food, still declining to answer his friend. Kirk had a fair bit of paperwork to get through that day, and had opted to eat supper in his quarters. So he wasn't alone, he'd asked his friend to join him. Halfway through the meal, he was starting to regret that decision, since his companion seemed a little more stormy than usual.

"You can't be mad if I don't know what you're mad about."

McCoy huffed. "You know _exactly_ what the issue is, Jim."

Kirk leaned back in his chair. "Are we back to the Holly Cameron thing?"

"Yes, we're 'back to the Holly thing'." The doctor shook his head. "You said I had nothing to worry about."

"You don't!"

"Really?" McCoy set his fork down with a loud clank. "Because it sure looks like I do. You two have been awfully chummy the past few days, and Ensign Bates mentioned he'd seen you sparring with her in the gym yesterday. I have it on good authority that wasn't the first time either."

"I see no crime in trying to get to know the new crew members. Besides, sparring is _easier_ with a _partner_, Bones." Kirk smirked.

The doctor glared. "I would have less of a problem with you _getting to know_ the new crew members if you weren't paying special attention to one in particular."

"Why does it bother you so much? I don't see anything wrong—"

"Damn it, Jim, how many ways do I have to explain this to you? She lost her brother, she went through _serious _physical and emotional trauma and has not yet fully healed. The grief is fresh, and I don't think she's ready to deal with it. Getting romantically involved with someone is not something she should be doing right now."

"Bones, you don't even know her—"

"Neither do you."

"I'm _trying_ to! You don't know what she's capable of, what she's really going through."

"Jim," McCoy softened his tone. "_Neither do you._"

Kirk wanted to argue. It was true, he had been flirty and friendly with Holly the past week. They'd sparred a few more times since their first session, and he liked being around her. They weren't together constantly, like his friend made it sound, as he still had his duties, and she had her work in Engineering. But more and more he found himself seeking her out in his downtime.

He wanted to argue that there was nothing wrong with that—even if he was attracted to her—but that was clearly why McCoy was taking such a tone with him. Holly was his patient, and he was trying to protect her.

"I'm just saying there's no room for romantic complications," McCoy tried. "I'm not trying to…"

"I know, Bones," the captain nodded. "I know you're just trying to do your job. I'll back off."

"Do you promise?" He grumbled.

Kirk was saved from answering as Scotty paged him. He pressed the receiving button on the panel beside the table.

"Whadya need Scotty?"

"Captain, we've had a power surge in the dilithium matrix. We'll have to drop out of warp to fix it, which could take a day or two. Means delayin' our arrival on Earth a wee bit."

"We're still almost a week and a half away, I don't think another few days will hurt." Kirk replied. "Any idea what caused it?"

The captain could hear the frown in his engineer's voice when he answered. "Well, that's thing. The circuit relay shoulda been tripped, and shut down the positron flow. Guess it failed on us. At least it wasn't somethin' more serious. Though there have been some odd fluctuations with—ah, never mind Cap'n, I'll look into it."

"Keep me posted."

"Aye."

The interruption allowed for a subject change, which Kirk took full of advantage of. It wasn't long before his friend's brow had cleared and he seemed content to let the subject of Holly Cameron rest for the time being. Kirk hadn't actually promised McCoy he would leave her alone, but he decided to back off anyway.

_It wouldn't be fair to Holly_, he thought. _After all she's been through, she doesn't need me messing things up too. God knows I have a knack for that._

* * *

_"I'm glad you're here, Charlie." Holly said before she could stop herself. "With me. Glad I'm not alone anymore." _

_He put his arm around her. "Me too. But don't go getting mushy on me or I won't know what to do with you." _

_She turned to him, smiling, and he was beaming back at her. Then he was frowning—he looked furious—and she tried to ask what was wrong. _

_"What is it? Charlie, what's wrong?" _

_"Get to the pods!" He yelled. "Get to the pods!" _

_"But Charlie," Holly pointed to the red panels blinking on every wall, in every direction. "They're all gone—the pods are all gone." _

_Then there was fire, replacing the panels, and he was shouting for her to run. His eyes were ablaze and she was terrified. Her feet were like blocks of cement when she tried to move. She was screaming his name and couldn't reach him, couldn't get away from the fire. He was pulling farther away, or maybe she was, and he was still yelling. _

_"Get to the pods!" he hollered, waving his arms, his clothes on fire. _

_She couldn't lift her arms, she couldn't answer back, _she_ was on fire too, still fighting to get to him, still screaming his name…_

Holly woke with a start, shaking and sweating, her face wet with tears. She just wanted the nightmares to stop. She wanted Charlie back, she wanted a do-over, she wanted a chance to save him.

_Please,_ she begged silently. Her hands were still vibrating and she couldn't erase the image of Charlie on fire, reaching out for her, moving farther and farther away. _Please make it all just go away._

"Holly?" she heard Jem's sleepy voice and raised her head.

Jem didn't hesitate in joining Holly on her bed, wrapping long, slender arms around her. It wasn't the first time this had happened over the past few weeks, but Holly was usually quieter and Jem was usually a heavy sleeper.

Jem leaned her head atop Holly's and let her cry. She didn't bother with words; they were well past that. After a while, Holly had a hold of herself and Jem slowly released her. Holly wrapped her arms around her knees and touched her chin to them.

"I just got him back." She whispered. "I only just got him back. And now he's gone."

"I know." Jem sighed and wrapped her fingers around Holly's hand, entirely encasing it. "I know. I miss him too. I miss them all."

They let the silence stretch and Holly felt a surge of gratefulness towards Jem. She wiped her eyes with her thin shirt sleeve.

"It's good to let it out," her friend said, gently rubbing Holly's back.

Holly shook her head. "I want it gone. I want to stop feeling this—stop _hurting_."

"Of course you do. But he was your kin—you can't stop feeling so easily. You can't bury your emotion to be felt when you choose, as I do."

"Why not?" Holly said stubbornly, sniffing and wiping her eyes again.

Jem smiled just a little. "It's not your species—it's not your way. You can't keep it all in forever, Holly."

"Watch me."

Her friend sighed again. "You _would_ try."

Of course she was going to try. Holly had to believe that she could stamp out the pain inside because she certainly couldn't bear it.

She thanked Jem, and after a little while, her friend returned to her own bed and was soon asleep. Holly waited until Jem's breathing was a soft, steady rhythm, and then she quietly changed out of her sleepwear and into a fresh set of clothes. She left their quarters a few moments later and went straight to the garden, where she stayed until it was time for her to report to Engineering.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n:** Thanks for the favs and follows, everyone!

* * *

McCoy was working through lunch, something that wasn't a new occurrence. Nurse Chapel badgered him to take a break as usual, and he promised he would, just as soon as he ran some samples up to the lab. He was grumbling and tapping furiously on his PADD on his way back from the lab, and nearly ran headlong into Holly, who herself was on her way back to Engineering.

"Sorry Doctor," she apologized, side-stepping out of his way.

He waved her off. "I was the one not watching where I was going."

She offered him a quick smile and he couldn't help noticing the dark circles under her eyes. He frowned a little. He hadn't seen very much of her the past week or so, as her ribs were healed enough that she no longer had mandatory check-ins with him.

"You're still not sleeping, are you?"

Holly grimaced. "I don't hide it well, do I?"

McCoy shook his head, almost smiling. She dropped her gaze to her hands and he felt something pulling at him. He wished she would let him help her. It was his job, after all.

"Are you talking to anyone?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Doctor." Her reply came quick, though she was still avoiding his gaze.

"Holly, you _need_ to talk to someone about this."

"I'm telling you, I don't need therapy. We've been over this."

McCoy sighed. "But you're still not listening to me."

She crossed her arms over her chest and finally met his eyes. "Are you badgering the others as much as you're badgering me?"

"I don't have to," he replied, trying not to let his tone show his frustration. "Jem has her own methods of coping, Kryst has already sought counsel from one of my nurses, and so did Dal. You're the only one fighting this."

"I'm not fighting anything," she shot back. "I'm moving on. And I'll be _fine_."

Holly straightened and walked away, leaving McCoy frowning after her. He wondered if she'd said the word _fine_ enough times to herself that it had lost all meaning yet. Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to sick bay, lost in thought.

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn't sure if that was why he felt so compelled to help her, or if that was more of a hindrance than a help. He'd been in a bad place emotionally before, that place where you feel swallowed by grief and heartache, where you need the world to just disappear and leave you alone, where _fine_ is the only word you feel like you can use and it's never true. You're never fine and you don't think you can be again.

His coping mechanism had been the bottle. It had made things blurry but easy. It had also made things more complicated, and he still couldn't face the day that was once the anniversary of his wedding day without the world being sufficiently numbed. Still, despite that, he knew it was better to _deal_ with things as they came. Shoving it away and burying it deep down only made it fester and boil, clawing at his insides and turning him darker and darker. He was by no means perfect at handling grief and trauma, he was still dark and cynical and bitter, still buried emotions and secrets, but that was _him._ He knew what it looked like, how it felt. He knew he had to try to stop others from going down the same path, from suffering for so long when they didn't have to.

McCoy rubbed his eyes with a sigh. He hoped Holly would come to him on her own, or at least talk to _someone, _but until she did, he supposed he would just have to wait and hope she changed her mind.

* * *

Kryst and Dal were in the middle of a poker game in the crowded rec room when Holly arrived, finished her shift in Engineering for the day. Kryst had been winning, to her surprise—Dal was usually the one with the most chips. When they finished the game, they dealt Holly in but they'd only gone two rounds when Jem settled down at their table. Holly insisted they begin the game again so Jem could join them and pretended it wasn't because she was losing miserably.

Dal won—again—and Jem opted to join a different card game a few tables over. Holly, Kryst, and Dal were joined by a trio of ensigns for a new game. Holly was glad that at least she was better than Ensign Parker at poker, though his lack of concentration was perhaps due to the fact that he seemed to be trying far too hard to impress Ensign Frey, seated across the table from him with her tinkling laugh and pretty green eyes.

Kryst kept bringing drinks to table, and Holly did shots with him when she lost the game. Ensigns Parker and Frey departed to play pool, while Ensign Anders stayed. Gaila joined them with a tray of flaming green shots, apparently a specialty of hers, and by the time Kirk showed up, Holly was sufficiently tipsy.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," she laughed when he approached their table. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"Hey," he chuckled. "Captains have days off too, you know."

Holly waved her hand at him. "That's not what I've heard."

Kirk took the empty seat beside Holly. "Oh, really? You know so many Captains as hard-working as I am, do you?"

"I don't know _any_ Captains like _you_," Holly blurted and felt her face flush. She promptly ignored it and took her turn.

The game was over a round later, and they dealt Kirk in.

"I warn you, I'm very good at this," he grinned as he collected his cards.

"I warn you, I'm quite _terrible_ at this."

Dal rolled his eyes and Kryst smirked behind his cards, but Holly wasn't going to let them deter her. Not when she had a significant amount of alcohol pumping through her veins, making her feel like she couldn't care if even she'd wanted to. Let Dal being stuffy and irritated, let Kryst be amused, let her make a fool of herself. Holly took another deep sip of her cocktail.

_Let me have some fun for once_, she thought.

She clinked shots together with Gaila and Kryst, hollered _Cheers_! and knocked hers back. As her red-headed friends cleared away their empties and brought over a new round of drinks, Holly elbowed Kirk playfully.

"You better catch up."

He flashed her another sexy grin. "Oh, I'm working on it."

When Gaila returned, Kirk asked her why Scotty was absent.

She exhaled heavily. "He's still fiddling with the dilithium matrix."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "I thought he had that fixed? He told me a few days ago that it would take a day or two, and then he said yesterday he was almost there with it."

"He _did_ have it fixed," Gaila explained. "But then Section 2 shut down without warning, and when we got that back online, we lost the circuit-breakers for the anti-matter junctions next. It's been one weird problem after another."

"You don't know what's causing it?" Holly piped up.

Gaila shook her head. "None of it should be happening. There's no reason for it. Things are shutting down and getting damaged at random. Most of the time we come back in after a skeleton shift, and there's a whole new set of problems they've been up all night trying to deal with."

Kirk frowned thoughtfully and Holly could guess what he was thinking, especially as a mechanic who had worked on a finicky old ship previously. A few small incidents were perhaps coincidence or genuine equipment failure. Past that, it started to get increasingly suspicious—and intentional.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said to Holly, Kryst, and Dal. "This means we're going to have to further delay our arrival at Earth."

Kryst shrugged, Dal said it wasn't a problem, and Holly smiled, adding that they weren't in a hurry to leave _Enterprise_ (then subsequently ignored the look Dal shot her).

The captain shook his head and took his turn in the game. "Well, now's not the time to worry about it." He grabbed one of the shot glasses Kryst had brought to the table, and tossed it back. "Now's the time to have some fun."

Gaila whooped in appreciation and followed suit. Dal, though he was grim and complaining about it, even did one shot before he refilled his beer and whined about being at a table with teenagers. Holly was enjoying herself too much to care, so she simply rolled her eyes and carried on. Twice he advised her to take it easy, but she and Kirk waved him off—they weren't on duty tomorrow, they could have as much as they wanted.

As the night wore on, people came and went from their table. She left and tried her hand at Skrye. Kirk sat with her and tried to help her, but she was hopeless: somewhat drunk and trying to learn an overly complicated card game was not a good combination. After that she played a little pool, something she was normally moderately good at, but Kirk kept making her laugh and she had trouble shooting straight.

They came back to the poker table an hour or two later, and while Holly had backed off on the drinks, Kirk had "caught up". They tumbled into chairs, giggling and grinning. At least Dal was gone. Holly glanced around and didn't see him anywhere, in fact, and surmised that he must've finally been tired enough of the fun that he'd retreated to his quarters.

Holly proceeded to beat Kirk soundly at poker, which made her strongly suspect he'd let her win. She was unaware of how much time had passed, but the number of people in the rec room was slowly dwindling. She had the sudden urge to take a walk, and said so.

"Where would we go?" asked Kirk.

"I don't care." Holly answered, biting her lip and holding his gaze. On impulse, she grabbed his hand and led him out into the hall.

The light in the halls had been set on a much dimmer setting, and it was a small thing, but something she liked about this ship all the same. The main corridors stayed bright at all times, but side halls were dimmed. The purpose was not only to save power during times when crew not on night shifts were sleeping, but also to help simulate a semblance of day and night, something otherwise impossible in the blank blackness of space.

"How are you feeling, Jim?" she slurred. Dully, she noted how much she liked saying his name.

He laughed. "Sufficiently drunker than I've been in a while."

"Won't it be a problem if you're terribly hung over on the bridge tomorrow?" she teased.

"I've left my first officer in charge tonight, and unless some radical emergency comes up, he'll still be in charge until later tomorrow."

"Aw, you made Spock miss out on all the fun?"

Kirk chuckled. "This kind of thing isn't really his version of 'fun'."

"Well, then I think he needs to get out more."

They laughed, and, as they zigzagged down the hall, Holly realized she was still holding his hand. Or rather, he hadn't taken it away. She stopped walking and he stopped too, turning to look at her. She dropped his hand and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him close as she backed up, grinning like an idiot. He laughed a little, pressing his palms to the wall on either side of her head.

"You are drunk."

_He's not one to talk,_ she thought. Kirk was swaying with half-closed eyes.

"Your point?" Somewhere a little voice was telling her to stop—to let go of his shirt, to walk away, to stop this right now, because he was the _Captain_ and she was nobody, and _drunk_, and only on the ship for another couple weeks—

She would've shushed the voice, had she the presence of mind to. Instead, she thought, _All the more reason to do this now before I miss my chance._

"I just don't want to…" Kirk started.

"You don't want to kiss me?" She moved her lips close to his, heart thumping wildly in her chest.

"Take advantage." He finished in a whisper, his breath tickling her skin.

"Do it anyways," Holly slurred, and closed the distance between them.

It was by no means a graceful kiss, but that didn't stop her from enjoying it. She needed something good, something fun—something that would probably make her cover her head with her hands the next day, but this was no time to think about that.

One of his hands moved from the wall to cup her jaw and she kissed him harder, wrapping her arm around his neck, trying to tug him closer. His other hand was on her waist and she forgot about everything else.

He pulled away first. Maybe he wasn't as far gone as she was—_he_ at least seemed to retain some control of himself. She had the irrational urge to apologize, but managed to swallow it down. They were breathless and trembling, and had she been less hazy, she would've been overthinking _what happens next_. Instead, she rushed forwards and started another delicious kiss.

Besides, she was fairly sure there were no actual _rules_ against making out with the Captain. And even if there was, she'd already broken it, so she figured it couldn't hurt to just keep going.

* * *

When Kirk pulled away the second time, it was certainly not because he wanted to. No, Holly felt really good in his arms, and he relished the feeling of her lips on his. He was no stranger to lust, either, and he couldn't deny that he very much wanted _more_.

No, the problem was that he'd told McCoy there'd been nothing to worry about—_twice_. He'd promised he wouldn't "go after" Holly, because she was grieving and vulnerable, and if she was anything like him, she was prone to making bad decisions in this state. He'd told his best friend to _relax_, because nothing was going on, and nothing would—he was content to leave it be, he really was. He liked flirting for its own sake.

But then she'd gone and ruined that plan quite soundly. He'd had a ton of fun with her that evening, and frankly, had wanted to kiss her for at least the past couple hours. With the alcohol dampening his sense of control, he was surprised he'd lasted this long.

He'd come to the conclusion that maybe McCoy was right—because he usually was—and he shouldn't be messing with Holly's emotions. It wasn't fair to either of them, and he knew it, so he took another (very reluctant) step away from her.

"Sorry, I just…"

He hated the look she gave him then: disappointed, her cheeks flushed, trying to catch her breath. His gaze traveled to her lips and he found himself wanting to kiss her again…

Kirk inhaled and took another slow step back, putting some actual space between them. She didn't say a word and he wished she would say _something_, agree that this was a bad idea. He knew it should end here. He should listen to McCoy, back off, let her be, let her heal. He should…

"Maybe we should slow down."

She nodded a bit, still looking disappointed, but understanding. "Yeah, that's… probably a good idea."

"I can walk you back to your quarters?"

She laughed. "Can you?"

Kirk smirked. "I'm not as bad as _you_."

"That is true," Holly slurred. "I think I win."

She came away from the wall, unsteadily, and Kirk quickly grabbed her arm, telling himself it was only to help her walk.

"You won't be the one winning in the morning." He chuckled.

She groaned. "Don't remind me."

They wove down the dimmed halls until they reached Holly's quarters. The same subjects of conversation tended to come up every minute or so, as their inebriated selves kept losing track of the conversation (a fact both of them found hilarious at the time). At her door, she grinned at him.

"I think I know the way from here."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow at her as she slapped the panel to open the door, almost stumbling over the threshold.

"I can manage. Jem'll be here soon, I except."

Kirk nodded. "Well, good night then."

Holly tried to stand straight and salute him and failed miserably. "And a good night to you too, Captain."

He laughed and retreated, the door sliding shut behind him.

He couldn't help thinking that no matter what McCoy would say, Kirk would maintain that it had not been a mistake.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n:** Thank you for continuing to read, fav and follow! :) Them and reviews are super appreciated!

* * *

Holly awoke to a pounding headache and nausea. Jem had no sympathy for her, and reminded Holly that she was no longer a teenager, and shouldn't try to drink like one. Holly groaned and almost nodded, but that just made her head hurt. At least she wasn't working in Engineering today.

"Where did Kryst get to last night?" Jem asked.

Holly shrugged. "He was flirting non-stop with Phillips. I assume he left with her. Why?"

"I was surprised he left before me, is all. But then again," Jem smirked. "So did you."

Holly buried her head in her hands and groaned. She had been _very_ drunk. She was not looking forward to seeing Kirk in the light of day after how she'd acted.

After about an hour, she dragged herself down to sick bay, hoping McCoy would have something to make the headache go away.

He grunted when he saw her trudge through the doors. "Must've been quite the party last night. You're the fourth one today."

Holly declined to answer and settled with a thump on the nearest bed.

The doctor returned with a glass of water and a hypospray which he promptly administered. Her headache cleared almost instantly and the nausea subsided. Holly exhaled with relief.

"It was a lot of fun, I'm sorry you missed it," she said.

"My time was better served wading through the backlog of paper work piled sky-high in my office," McCoy grumbled. "And nursing Ensign Parker, who passed out and smashed his head on a sink."

Holly winced. "Yeah, some of us got a bit carried away."

The doors to sick bay opened and Kirk came slumping in, much in the same pained manner as Holly had, squinting and a little pale. Holly may have been very drunk, and her memories of the previous night were hazy, but they weren't so scrambled that she didn't remember how good it had felt to kiss Jim Kirk. She felt her face and neck grow hot at the memory.

"Ah. You too. What a surprise." McCoy shook his head and crossed the room to retrieve a new hypospray canister and glass of water for his friend.

Kirk came to stand beside Holly. "Morning."

Holly smiled and greeted him in return, feeling awkward.

"Did you sleep all right?"

She snapped her fingers. "Out like a light, moments after you left. You?"

Kirk chuckled. "I made it back to my quarters. I did _not_ quite make it to the bed."

"You passed out?"

He shook his head. "No, I sat down to take my shoes off, and woke up several hours later, slumped over in front of my door, shoe still in my hand."

When McCoy returned, they were both giggling. The doctor glanced between her and Kirk suspiciously but didn't comment as he dosed Kirk. He ensured they finished a second glass of water before he released them from sick bay.

"I'm glad you were here, actually," Kirk said as he and Holly headed out. "I was going to page you and your friends to come to the bridge after I saw McCoy about the headache."

"Oh? What for?"

Kirk pressed his lips into a thin line briefly and a sinking feeling crept over her.

"Jim?"

He slowed to a stop. "Holly, we found a recording. It was on a broken PADD, jammed in with the engine, when my team went down to your ship to retrieve the drive."

Her heart was hammering in her chest. A recording? From when? And why was he only telling her about now?

He seemed to sense her question, as he continued, "The recording is barely understandable. We've been running it through every program we can think of to enhance it. We didn't want to bother any of you with it, because the only information we got from it was the same we learned from you.

"At this point, we think it's as good as we're going to get it, though Uhura is going to see if there's anything more she can do with it, which may take a while. I thought it was time you and the others heard it. Maybe you can make some sense of it, filled in the blanks."

Holly nodded and swallowed, waiting. She could tell there was still something he was holding back.

Kirk hesitated and looked at her carefully. "It's your brother's voice on the recording."

She felt her breath stop in her chest and her head spin. She could barely process what he'd said. _Charlie's voice_. It hardly seemed possible that he'd died more than a month ago. Most nights it felt like mere hours ago. She didn't realize she was shaking until she felt Kirk's steady hand on her arm.

"It's okay if you don't want to hear it."

She managed to shake her head. "No, I _need_ to hear him—it. I need to hear it."

"Okay." Kirk nodded. "Let's get the others."

* * *

About half an hour later, Holly, Dal, Kryst, Jem, Kirk and several of his crew members were gathered in the situation room off the bridge to hear the recording. Holly hadn't said a word since Kirk had told her about the recording. Dal was more closed off than usual, Kryst subdued, and Jem had immediately taken her friend's hand and had yet to let go. They were gathered around a large console and after a nod from Kirk, Spock pressed a button and the recording began to play.

_"This—Captain Charlie—of—star log. I'm—engineering—the drive—destroys it—shore leave—I've been—" _There was a loud explosion and some muffled cursing before the voice came back on, sounding more frantic. _"Don't—time to explain—have—proof—the drive—taking—down—"_

It wasn't much better than the first several times Kirk had heard it. There was another minute or two of loud noise, the indiscernible yelling, and then static.

Holly felt her knees nearly buckle when the recording began and she'd shut her eyes tight for a moment to catch her breath. Jem squeezed her hand tight. When she opened her eyes, Kryst had turned his back to them and his head was bowed, Dal was frowning deep, his forehead crunched and wrinkled, and Jem's face was tight with unease. The explosions and the noise were somehow harder for her to listen to than Charlie's voice. Immediately her mind was jolted to those last few minutes when _Chronos_ was breaking apart around her.

She held onto Jem's hand beside her like a lifeline, and fought to stay focused on what was around her, and not what was in her head.

Kirk glanced over at Holly and felt his stomach twist. Maybe it was too soon—he shouldn't have let her hear it yet. If it was his brother, he would've wanted to hear it. But he also didn't have a fresh trauma hanging over his head directly tied to the recording.

When the recording finished, the room was dead quiet. Holly was shivering and the others didn't move from their respective positions for several seconds. Kirk wasn't about to push any of them. He was already regretting asking them to listen to it when it was clearly still far too raw.

Then Dal raised his eyes from the console and asked in a gravelly voice, "I'd like to listen to that again."

Kryst looked at the other man quickly, his expression unreadable. Jem glanced down at Holly, who was biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying in a room full of people. Kirk turned to Holly as well.

"Holly?"

She felt as though the explosions were echoing in her mind, and found herself wanting to run and call out for Charlie. His voice made him seem alive, made her blindly believe that somehow he _was_, that these weren't his dying words. If she could just go back to the _Chronos_, he would be there, grinning, wondering where they'd all gone, leaning against her doorframe, hair tousled, eyes sparkling…

"It's okay." She managed at last. It wasn't okay—it wasn't okay _at all_, and she felt terrified at the prospect of having to listen to those explosions again. But she needed Charlie's voice—just one more time, _just please, God, one more time._

At another nod from Kirk, Spock replayed the recording. The second time wasn't as bad, perhaps because she knew what to expect. Holly wanted to shut her eyes, but that only amplified the background noise, which she was trying so hard to block out, so she forced herself to keep them open.

Unfortunately, the _Chronos_' crew couldn't make much more sense of the recording than Kirk's crew had. It was clear Charlie had been going to Engineering to protect the drive from getting destroyed, but they didn't understand the bits about shore leave and proof either. Jem apologized that they could not be more help, Kirk thanked them, and promised they would continue trying to scrub the audio to decipher more words.

Sulu's voice sounded from the room's intercom. "Captain, you better get in here. And bring them with you."

They hurried out into the bridge and didn't need to ask why Sulu had paged Kirk. The view screen showed a massive space storm, bursting with fingers of blue and green light and matter, slicing and swirling like an angry pinwheel. Holly thought it looked like a category seven at least.

For one small moment, she remembered the calm and excitement that used to sweep over her when _Chronos_ was chasing down a singularity. How they would all take their stations, work together near-seamlessly, with the usual bickering sprinkled in between, how they would all unwind when it was over. For one small moment, she was back in her element, back where she was supposed to be, clear on what to do next instead of fumbling forwards. For one small moment, she wasn't running from what happened, desperate to distract herself from her grief, distance herself from the pain.

Then the moment was gone. Kirk settled into his Captain's chair and immediately asked Mr. Sulu to take evasive maneuvers. The bridge was a hive of activity in an instant, and as the ship began to shake, Kirk turned to her and the other _Chronos_ crew members, hovering close together near the door.

"Any tips?"

Dal stepped forward at once, hurrying down to talk to Sulu and Chekov. Kryst broke out of his daze and crossed the bridge to help in the communication to Engineering. Jem released Holly's hand and moved to the other side, offering her experience in dealing with singularities. Holly, however, was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Kirk had turned to face the view screen again.

The ship lurched abruptly. Holly clasped the railing before her with a white-knuckled grip.

_A loud alarm began blaring, ringing off the walls of the gym. It was an alarm that Holly had only heard a very small number of times in the entirety of this mission, and it sent chills rocketing down her spine. It meant something was very wrong._

Commands were being called, lights were flashing and the storm was drawing closer. Her heart pounded in her chest.

_"Charlie, what—"_

_"Get to the pods," he said sharply. She'd made no move to follow him to the lift so he grabbed her hand and yanked her after him. "Get everyone to the pods right now."_

"Holly?" someone called her name but she wasn't sure if it was Charlie or someone else.

The ship was buffeted and the storm was taking its toll on the ship's hull. The plating was significantly depolarized and the storm was pulling the ship in. Sulu increased power and Dal took over the secondary navigation controls.

"Jim—"

_"Where are the pods?"_

_"What?!"_

McCoy was on the bridge now too, and he had to grab onto a console to stay upright when the ship was pounded particularly hard.

_"No, he won't," Dal's grizzled voice said above the din and the others turned to face him. "He's dead."_

"Holly!" the doctor was at her side and she was on her knees, still clutching the railing so hard her hands ached.

_A massive explosion ripped through the ship, and for a moment, everything was noise and heat and confusion and chaos. Holly felt her body slam hard into metal, but whether it was the ceiling, floor, or wall, she had no idea. There was shouting and screaming. Alarms were blaring. Someone grabbed her arm._

She realized the screaming was coming from her mouth, and that Dal was shouting for someone to _get her the hell off the bridge_. McCoy had his hand on her shoulder and was shaking her gently. Jem had retreated and had her arms wrapped around herself, her wide eyes darting from the view screen to the activity in the bridge.

_And something was wet on her hands. Torres' eyes were wide with shock, her mouth agape. Richards was missing a limb_—

"Get her _out_ of here!" Dal hollered and the ship took another sharp hit.

Holly released the railing and McCoy hauled her to her feet.

"Hull plating almost completely depolarized!" Sulu reported.

_"No!" Holly screamed, and unable to stop herself, she tried to take off, to find Charlie, to prove he was all right._

_Dal caught her in his arms and she fought him, cursing, slapping, and punching like some sort of feral animal._

_"Holly, he's dead! He's gone! We have to—"_

"Holly—it's me! It's McCoy! Calm down!"

She couldn't see—there was smoke and explosions, and she could feel the heat licking at her.

_And something was wet on her hands. Torres' eyes were wide with shock, her mouth agape. Richards was missing a limb_—

Kirk glanced over his shoulder and felt guilt and worry flood through him as McCoy struggled to get Holly into the turbolift. He had no time to worry about her in that moment however.

"Increase power!" he shouted, as the ship pitched and it sounded like thunder.

* * *

When the turbolift doors slid shut, McCoy let Holly collapse to the floor. He knelt before her and clasped her face in his hands.

"Holly, it's me, it's okay—I've got you. You're safe."

She cried and struggled for a moment but then seemed to focus properly on her surroundings. She started shaking and burst into a fresh wave of tears, but wasn't fighting and screaming any longer. Without hesitation, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms tight around her. Dimly he was aware he was crossing a line here, the line between doctor and patient, and he would have to back track later. In the moment, however, he saw a terrified woman, and he could think of nothing better to comfort her than his embrace.

Holly grasped fistfuls of his shirt, unable to stop picturing Charlie dying in a fiery explosion and those last few moments on _Chronos_. The lurching of the ship had decreased significantly, but still she cried.

"I've got you," McCoy repeated. "I've got you."

* * *

Kirk didn't feel much like eating, as evidenced by his barely touched food.

It was a few hours after the storm, which they had escaped from with moderate damage. It had been less severe than it seemed at the time, and fortunately Sulu and Dal's combined efforts had allowed them to dodge and eventually outrun the storm.

Now in the mess hall, Chekov chatted with Sulu, while Uhura listened politely. Kirk would normally have joined in the conversation, but he didn't feel very social. In the moment, he'd been able to shove aside his worry for Holly and her crew, especially when Dal had stepped up and been such a major help. In the aftermath, however, he couldn't stop picturing the haunted look in Jem's eyes or the way Holly had screamed.

He'd pushed her too hard, he knew—first with the recording of her brother, and then by asking her to stay on the bridge during a storm. The _Chronos_ was a research vessel chasing singularities, and he should've known. Another wave of guilt pounded through him as McCoy arrived at their table with a heavy sigh, setting his tray down beside Uhura.

"How is she?" Kirk asked at once.

"Sleeping." The doctor answered, shaking some pepper onto his potatoes.

"What happened up there today?" asked Sulu.

"I think she might have PTSD, and listening to that recording coupled with the storm triggered some pretty intense flashbacks."

"She'll be all right?" Uhura questioned.

McCoy sort of shrugged. "This isn't like a flu. It can't really be cured and it doesn't just go away. It's different from case to case. I believe she'll get there eventually, when she finally starts dealing with things."

"I'm glad she's okay." Kirk exhaled with relief.

"No thanks to you." McCoy grumbled.

"Hey, what's with the tone? I didn't intend for anything to happen to her—to them. I thought they should hear their Captain's last words."

"Oh, you thought? Like you _thought_ it was safe to go down and have a chat with Yuri about running guns and ammunition?"

Sulu's tone was flat and resigned when he said, "Are we really talking about Delta Paven again?"

"Apparently," Uhura sighed.

Chekov winced. "I zink I have to…" He promptly scooped up his tray and left the table, not bothering to finish his sentence.

"Bones, come on," Kirk made a scoffing noise. "That's not the same thing and you know it. I was acting on instinct then, and this time I really—"

"Jim, the man _shot_ you the last time we saw him, why the hell would you even think it would be any different the next time?"

"Here we go again." Uhura mumbled under her breath.

"That was just a misunderstanding," Kirk insisted. "I don't hold grudges."

"Yes, well, _he_ did."

"And so do you. Bones, you _have_ to let this go. It was _ages_ ago—we can laugh about it now!"

"I think _laugh_ is a strong word." Sulu put in.

"Jim, my point is that you have good intentions, but you don't think them through, and that's where trouble starts." McCoy lowered his voice. "And I _warned_ you—more than once—that Holly, in particular, was troubled, and you needed to go easy around her. Then you haul her up to the bridge, and practically re-traumatize her. I told you something would happen."

"You're not being fair," Kirk shot back, frustrated. "I didn't _know_ there was going to be a storm. I didn't _know_ she was going to break down."

There was a few seconds of sticky silence where McCoy and Kirk glared at each other. Uhura and Sulu exchanged uneasy looks, both rethinking their decisions not to leave the table with Chekov moments earlier. The doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Look, Jim, I'm sorry. I don't mean to say you directly caused what happened today. She's my _patient. _They all are. And I'm doing my best to heal them. I've been having trouble sleeping, on top of it, so it's not exactly helping my temper."

Kirk relaxed his shoulders—he didn't want to fight with his friend over this, especially when he had plenty of guilt on the matter without Bones' help. He opted for a smile instead, letting the matter settle.

"I am aware of your short temper. In fact, I seem to recall getting _punched _and called some very choice names—"

"That was because of a hallucination caused by a Pisces infection," McCoy said. "And _I'm_ the one who needs to let things go?"

Kirk laughed and clapped McCoy on the back.

* * *

Holly was curled up on a bench in the garden when Jem found her. It was late evening, and the thought of going to sleep made Holly's heart race with fear, so she'd gone to the one place where she could feel calm.

"Hey," her friend greeted and settled gracefully down on the bench beside her.

"You okay?"

Jem smiled softly. "I was going to ask you first."

"I suppose I will be."

They were quiet for some time, sitting in comfortable silence, before Jem spoke again.

"What happened today?"

Pretty much the last thing Holly wanted to do was talk about it—any of it—but seeing as how Jem was her best friend, she felt she should share, even if it was just a little bit of what she was feeling.

"I… felt it. All over again. When everything blew up, when the pods were gone, when Charlie—" Her voice cracked and she stopped, tears flooding her eyes. When she'd recovered her voice, she added, "I couldn't breathe."

"I had trouble too. I tried to help, like Dal, but…" Jem trailed off, and reached beside the bench to let her long, dark fingers trail over some huge green leaves. "I suddenly could not compartmentalize. I could not bury my emotion. I am afraid I failed the Captain."

"We both did." Holly replied and offered her friend a small, sad smile when their gazes met.

The pair fell silent again, and sat drinking in the quiet of the garden. There was a faint hum of the ship, and the soft noise of cool mist being distributed from the tubes along the roof and between trees. Holly thought she could almost fall asleep here, if she knew she would have no nightmares.

"You know," Jem began, some time later. "I have been talking with Nurse Carter. She listens very well, and as she is from Axlesse, a border moon to Saxis, she is familiar with our culture and customs. She has been helping me to compartmentalize and deal with everything more appropriately."

"Is it helping?"

Jem nodded. "I believe it is. The dreams have decreased in frequency."

"I didn't know you had nightmares too."

"I don't wake up from them thrashing, but I do have them, yes, of course." Jem closed her eyes briefly. "They're very real."

Her tone made Holly shiver.

"McCoy wants me to come in for therapy. He said he couldn't force me, but… he keeps insisting I talk to someone."

"I think it is certainly something to consider," said Jem. "Ultimately however, it is, of course, your choice."

After Jem bid her goodnight, Holly opted to stay in the garden a bit longer. She still hated the idea of having to talk about Charlie and what happened on _Chronos_. Every time it invaded her thoughts, she felt shaken to her core, exposed and raw. She was well aware she was avoiding the pain, seeking every opportunity to hide from it, but had no desire to change that fact.

And maybe Jem was right, maybe McCoy was right, and she should be dealing with it all head-on. She should talk about it, get it out, and properly move forward. But talking meant facing it. And she wasn't strong enough, she felt, to face it.

_Coward, _she thought.

Her thoughts went around in circles and by the time she felt as though she could fight sleep no longer, she decided that she would seek out McCoy in the next few days. Maybe she would try. She wasn't one to back down from a challenge, after all, so perhaps if she thought of this as a new challenge…

Back in her quarters she felt more awake than she had in the peace of the garden, and it took a long time for her to feel sleepy enough to drift off. Twice she woke up with a jolt when she felt herself slipping to dreamland, afraid of what awaited her there. When her clock said she had to be up in just under three hours for work, Holly finally managed to fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next few days, Engineering was kept busy with repairs after the space storm. Holly was glad to keep her hands busy, as it in turn kept her mind occupied. Though she had expected him to, McCoy didn't prod her about therapy when she saw him in the garden or at mealtimes. He seemed to be there very often when she was lately, but she didn't mind at all, as she enjoyed his company and he seemed to enjoy hers too.

The day after the incident on the bridge with the storm, Kirk had pulled her aside. If she had felt awkward before, it was nothing to how she felt now.

"About yesterday, I shouldn't have—I'm so sorry, I—" He struggled.

She avoided his gaze. "It wasn't your fault." She meant it, but still felt unsettled by what had happened.

"I was only trying to… Holly, I never would've brought you up there if I'd known—"

"It's okay, Jim," she finally met his eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

He clenched his jaw, and didn't look convinced, but nodded anyways.

The previous night of fun seemed so far away.

She broke the uncomfortable silence that had descended between them to bid him goodbye, before hurrying back to tend to her duties.

Later that evening at dinner, Dal was in a particularly stormy mood after the crew had been informed that their arrival at Earth was to be delayed yet another week because of the issues with the engines.

"This is ridiculous," he stabbed at the food on his plate with unnecessary force. "We should've been there _weeks_ ago."

Kryst raised his eyebrow. "Yesterday you were complaining about how you didn't want to go to Earth, now you're mad we're not getting their fast enough?"

"Why don't you want to go to Earth?" questioned Holly.

"There's not going to be anything there for us. What are they going to do with us when we get there?" said Dal. "Have you thought about that?"

"Maybe they'll have a new mission," suggested Jem.

"Not likely. We're not Starfleet officers, so they're not just going to reassign us. We all signed up for a sensitive, dangerous, three-year research mission as civilians, and they're going to dump us on some planet, millions of miles from our homes, with nothing."

"You don't know that," Holly shook her head. "You don't know what'll happen when we get there."

"If I had my way, we _wouldn't_ get there." Dal grumbled. "If they could just tell me what to expect, maybe it'd be easier to handle. Nobody likes fear of the unknown."

"You're just afraid of change," said Jem. "You're settled here now, and getting uprooted again after what we've been through is upsetting."

"What are you, my shrink?" the older man snapped.

"There's nothing you can do about it—you just have to deal with it." Holly shrugged.

"And you should take your own damn advice, sweetheart. You're one to talk."

"I'm not the one who's pissed about setting down on Earth."

"And I'm not the one who can't handle things."

She felt her temper flare, red hot. How _dare_ he try and use what happened on the bridge against her.

Kryst spoke up before Holly could. "We're _all_ struggling. Besides, I don't think we need to worry about what happens when we get to Earth right now. This ship is having enough problems getting there, it might not ever happen at this rate." He flashed a trademark grin and changed the subject.

Holly's jaw was tight and she forced herself to breathe, lest she reach over and punch Dal. She couldn't stop hearing his last comment to her: _I'm not the one who can't handle things. _The worst part, she thought, was that he was right. He wasn't the one who'd started screaming when the ship met up with a storm. He wasn't the one who'd been sobbing in the turbolift with the doctor.

She _hated_ when Dal was right.

* * *

McCoy was crushing herbs with a pestle when Holly tentatively entered sick bay. Though he rather wished she had come just to see him, he knew from experience that people only came to sick bay when something was wrong.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, barely glancing up.

She was twisting her hands together and staring at the curtained off area where Ford lay, still comatose. McCoy paused as the silence stretched and faced her.

"Holly?" he prompted gently.

"She's still… is she still…" Holly gestured vaguely to the curtained area.

McCoy sighed. "Yeah. Nothing is working. I can't find a single treatment that makes any difference. She's showing signs of brain activity, but it's limited and there has been no change. Aside from… waiting, I don't know what else to do."

It pained him to admit it. He wasn't one to blow his own horn or anything, but he was a pretty good doctor. He was good at his job, at figuring things out, at reacting and finding treatments that worked. He did research; he kept up on the advancements, experiments and trials. He even worked with _herbs_ now, for God's sake, which was something prior to his training at Starfleet he'd referred to as "hippie medicine." His life revolved around saving and healing others, and when he couldn't, it cut deeper than he would ever admit.

"Look, McCoy, I…" Holly's small, unsure voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Maybe it's time I… talk to someone."

He straightened, a bit surprised. After how stubborn she'd been for so long, though he was glad she was finally listening to him, he had not been expecting her to. He cleared his throat.

"I can get one of my nurses—"

"I'd like to talk to you," she interrupted. "If that's all right."

That surprised him more than a bit. He had a certain level of bedside manner when it came to his patients, to be sure, but he was not a particularly warm or friendly person. He wasn't the type people gravitated towards or wanted to have intimate conversations with. He wasn't like Kirk—optimistic, charming and handsome, with an easy smile. McCoy was closed off, cynical, damaged and bitter. He could recognize when others needed help of the emotional kind, and though he'd been trained to offer it in Starfleet, he always passed this kind of thing off to Chapel or Carter.

"Holly, I'm… not good at that kind of thing." He finally admitted, opting to explain at least half of the truth. "It'd be better if you talked to Nurse Chapel, or perhaps Nurse Carter. I can arrange—"

"I want to talk to _you_."

He stopped and she held his gaze with those pretty hazel eyes. He suddenly wished he could tell exactly what she was thinking. Why the hell would she want _him_?

She seemed to guess what _he_ was thinking, however, as she said, "You were the one who pulled me off the bridge."

McCoy didn't think that explained anything, but supposed that act had earned her trust somehow. She felt a connection with him, and while he still thought it wasn't a very good idea, he could tell there would be no convincing her. She would simply have to suffer through a few sessions with him before she realized he had no place acting the therapist.

He shrugged. "If that's what you want."

"I do."

"Well, then I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll let you know what time."

She smiled and the look she gave him made some emotion bloom in his chest, like a burst of warmth on a cold day. She waved and bid him goodbye, and it was gone, dissolving as fast as it had come. He shook his head, ignoring the feeling. He was just relieved she was finally seeking help. That was all. Simple relief and nothing more.

_Nothing more_, he thought resolutely. _There _is_ nothing more, and there _will be_ nothing more_.

It wouldn't make sense, it wouldn't be appropriate. McCoy knew he'd have to double his efforts to stamp out his baffling feelings for Holly.

* * *

Things were still awkward between Holly and Kirk. She had wanted a distraction from her pain, thinking she was in control of herself. That day on the bridge had shown her she was far from it, however. She didn't blame Kirk in any way for what happened, but he still had an uneasy, guilty look on his face when he was around her.

She wasn't looking to get involved with him—no, she had reluctantly decided she would have to actually _deal_ with her pain instead of burying it with lust and distraction—but she missed his smile and flirty banter when they were together all the same.

When Holly arrived at the gym that afternoon, Kirk was just leaving, and she stopped him.

"Can we… skip the part where I made bad choices and broke down? And go back to the part before that?" Holly smiled ruefully. "Please?"

Kirk chuckled.

She held out her hand. "Friends?"

He returned her smile and shook her hand. "Friends."

The tension eased between them a little and she made him promise they would spar later in the week. He saluted her and as he left the gym, his shoulders seemed more relaxed.

* * *

The next evening, Holly was in McCoy's office with the door shut. He'd cleared a spot for her on the small lumpy couch—he wasn't kidding about the mountains of backlog paperwork—and he had reminded her for the third time in ten minutes that he was not good at this. He sat stiffly in his chair, unsure where to begin.

"So how does this work?" she asked. "I just… talk?"

"You can say whatever you'd like. We don't have to jump right in with happened if you don't want to."

"I thought the whole point of this was to talk about what happened."

"Yes, but you don't have to if you don't want to. We'll get there."

Holly dropped her gaze to the couch, fingers tracing a random pattern on the dark grey fabric. She didn't how or _where _to begin. She supposed the process might have been easier with one of the female nurses McCoy had suggested, but she felt always felt safe in his presence. Maybe it was because he was there on _Chronos_ when she was rescued, maybe it was because he'd held her in the turbolift during the storm. In any event, she'd decided that if she was going to talk to anyone about it all, it would be him.

She couldn't find her voice to talk about when the _Chronos_ went down, so she decided to go somewhere less painful and threatening. She would talk about Charlie, but not _that day—_not yet.

"I spent the night in jail, once." Holly began reluctantly, and McCoy raised his eyebrow in surprise. "I wasn't exactly the most… well-behaved kid. And that only got worse when I became a teenager. I was always getting into all kinds of trouble—I can't even count how many times I was grounded. Charlie and I were close as kids, but… well, we fought a lot as we grew up. It got pretty bad, and it seemed like the farther away I got from him, the worse trouble I got myself into."

McCoy was a good listener, she noted, as she spoke. His hands were clasped before him and he would wait patiently whenever she paused or had to stop, even if the silence stretched for a long time. For all his fussing that he wasn't good at this, she already felt like he was.

"One night I… stole a car." Holly winced—the memory of it was not a pleasant one. "Or, I should say, I tried to. I got caught and they hauled me down to the station. They couldn't get a hold of my parents, so I was stuck there until they did. And even though Charlie and I hadn't been speaking in weeks, when I called him, he came—no hesitation. He bailed me out and drove me home. He wasn't mad, he didn't yell, he just… came. He always came for me."

She ducked her head as tears sprang to her eyes. He'd always saved her, always protected her. Until he'd left the planet. She told McCoy about that next, about how angry she'd been. The trouble she'd gotten herself into, and had no brother to save her this time. How listless and bitter she'd been when she signed up for the _Chronos_ mission. How coldly she'd treated her brother at first, still so angry at him for leaving her alone. Holly made it all the way to the part when they'd made up and found she couldn't talk anymore.

"Sounds like he was a pretty amazing guy," McCoy finally said when the silence had stretched long enough.

Holly wiped her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."

"We can… stop here, today, if you want."

She nodded. As she stood to leave, she thanked him for listening.

"Thank you for coming." He said and opened the door to his office.

She hesitated at the threshold. "Same time tomorrow?"

"All right," he agreed with a nod.

* * *

Kirk set his tray down beside McCoy. As they began to eat, Kirk was unusually quiet, which the doctor's first clue something was up.

"What is it, Jim?" he asked.

There was a long pause, before Kirk quietly admitted, "I kissed Holly."

McCoy kept his gaze trained on his plate, feeling a blender of emotions, half of them he knew he had no right to feel. Of course he had assumed as much—he'd heard the same gossip everyone else did. He felt irritated, sure. A little anger, frustration, fine. Jim was going to get an earful from him, because hadn't he explicitly warned Jim off Holly?

But jealousy? Disappointment? Where the hell was that coming from? He'd been certain he'd had his emotions under control, and now jealousy was rearing its ugly head.

"And before you say anything, we were just having fun. It was a one-time thing," Kirk assured him. "It's over. We're just friends."

McCoy grunted. "Glad to hear it."

"That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say?"

"Well, after all the badgering, I was expecting a little ranting."

"I don't rant."

"You occasionally rant."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Well, I wasn't going to rant."

"It's okay if you want to. I can take it. I'm ready."

"Jim, I'm not going to. If you say it's over, I believe you."

"Suit yourself." Kirk shrugged and suppressed a smile.

* * *

**A/n:** Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from all you lurkers... ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/n:** Thanks for reading ladies & gents! I'd love to hear your feedback, any and all. :)

* * *

Not for the first time, Holly was up to her elbows with dirt when McCoy joined her in the garden.

"Did you re-pot _all_ of these?" He asked. At her nod, he whistled low, impressed.

"I don't know how you do it," MCoy shook his head, admiring her handiwork. "Or any of this gardening, for that matter. It already looks better in here."

Holly laughed, climbing to her feet as she wiped her grimy hands with a rag. "I don't know either—I just do it, and it works. Started at a young age."

"Yeah?" They began walking idly between the rows of exotic flowers and plants.

She nodded. "Back on Corinth IV. My mom started a garden but wasn't terribly interested in keeping it up. One day she was out there weeding, and saying she was going to get rid of this garden if she couldn't figure out an easier way to deal with it."

They climbed the steps to the catwalk, their favorite spot. Holly continued, "I went in and started weeding with her, and I enjoyed it. I was about ten, I think. I did the weeding, and then I started doing the planting, and got her to order new seeds and tools."

"And you kept it up ever since?" asked McCoy.

"I did. It was a great deal for her—she cooked with all the stuff I grew." She smiled at the memory. Inevitably, she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered those summers between school years when Charlie was out there helping her…

"Was she a good cook?"

Holly wrinkled her nose. "Not really. She's got a few things she makes really good, but that's it. She's always experimenting with recipes and sometimes it can get a little dicey."

McCoy chuckled. "I'm not much of a cook myself either. I can handle the basics, you know. Boiling water, toast, peanut butter and jelly…"

Holly giggled.

"But I always figured why bother, when there's a replicator around to do it for you?" He finished with a smirk.

"Thank you," she said warmly.

"For what?" He turned those deep green eyes to her.

"You always know how to make me feel better."

She held his gaze for a moment before he cleared his throat and abruptly took a few steps away from her.

"Well, those herbs aren't going to pick themselves," he grumbled and headed back down the steps.

She stared at the lines of his back as he walked away, before she went below as well and tended to the Asiskas.

* * *

"So how are things going between you two?"

McCoy didn't take his gaze away from the PADD in his hands. "Who?"

"You and Holly?"

"You mean the sessions? They're going well, I think."

"No, I don't mean the sessions."

McCoy finally glanced at his friend, confused.

"I mean, how is it _going_?" Kirk repeated.

"Jim, if you're suggesting—"

"Oh, c'mon, Bones. I've seen the way you look at her."

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"And Nurse Chapel was saying the other day that your trips to the garden have increased_ significantly_—"

"That has _nothing_ to do with—"

"Bones, just admit it."

Uhura settled at the table with them and joined the conversation. "Admit what?"

McCoy glared fiercely at Kirk, whose eyes were sparkling with amusement, but he graciously chose not to comment further on the matter and changed the subject. McCoy left moments later before Kirk had another chance to tease him. He didn't know how Kirk knew he was struggling with feelings for Holly, but he didn't need the whole ship knowing, damn it.

* * *

The following morning, Engineering dealing with a number of small power surges that had fried panels of circuits. Scotty and several others had managed to repair the faulty manifolds that were causing the surges, though the circuits now needed replacing. Furious with the mysterious and near-continual damage in his engine room, Scotty had called together his team and set them to work finding creative solutions to the various issues still cropping up.

"What you're used to, what we normally do—it isn't working," he explained. "For all I know, the engines are possessed. But until we get the time to perform an exorcism, I want you to work 'round the usual, and maybe we can stop the flow until we find the cause. Get it to, ladies and gents."

Holly paired up with Gaila to deal with the circuit system behind the malfunctioning injectors. For almost two days straight, they attempted a number of different solutions to the problem, and nothing seemed to work. At mealtime, they brainstormed ideas. Kryst told them they were wasting their time and that whatever was going on was above their skill level. Holly rolled her eyes and ignored him. The following afternoon, they pulled Scotty aside, sure they'd finally found an answer.

"If we take out the panel here, and reset the wires here," Holly explained, pointing to the schematics on the PADD. "Then all we need to do is bypass the circuit breaker on L61 and reattach L83."

The engineer scratched his head. "Aye lass, oughta do it."

"To reach it someone would have to climb into the manifold conduit, though," Gaila said and glanced at the small access door.

Scotty eyed Holly up and down critically. "You should fit—if you're up for it. Once you're in, I can reverse the sensor array and restart the system while Gaila monitors the levels."

"No problem," said Holly, squeezing into the narrow opening.

"Be careful," warned Gaila.

Holly wiggled and slid along the tube until she was beneath the underbelly of the displacement chamber. She rested the tools on her chest so she could use both hands to reach up in amongst the wires. She could see immediately the area that the PADD scan had said was damaged, and started pulling it apart.

After several minutes, Gaila asked, "How are we doing in there?"

Holly yanked out the last few wires. "Better shape than I thought. Looks like only four of the twelve cells are fried."

"Excellent," Gaila replied. "The bypass will take care of this little power issue perfectly then until we can synthesize new ones."

A few moments later, a soft warning alarm sounded.

"The levels are spiking," Gaila warned. "You better get out, Holly, so we can seal this up."

"Just about got it…" Holly shifted, reaching as far up as she could. It was an awkward angle, but she'd managed to isolate L61. With her other hand she grabbed the nacelle wrench and wedged it up alongside the displacement chamber, jerked it down, snapping off the damaged piece.

"Holly," Gaila's voice called up the tube. "You need to get out—something's not right. There's a power surge in the hydropumps, and if it reaches the pressurized conduits…"

Holly ignored her—she just needed another second, and besides, she'd dealt with pressurized conduits before. She knew she had a good minute more at least before the coolant came blasting down the access tube. She dropped the wrench back onto her chest and replaced the cells on L61, then skilfully reattached wires, effectively creating the bypass they needed and smiled. _There_.

"_Holly_—"

There was a moment where she heard the roar and she froze, fear crushing her chest like a vice. It sounded like fire, and just like she had on the bridge, for a second, she was back on the _Chronos_…

She couldn't move. _Charlie was dead, Dal said Charlie was dead—_

_There was shouting and screaming. Alarms were blaring. Someone grabbed her arm. Everything was flashing and spinning—_

It was second before she realized Gaila was the one yelling her name.

"Get _out_, Holly!"

Holly couldn't breathe, but she forced her joints to unlock and struggled out of the tube, feeling claustrophobic and weak and terrified. She was drenched with sweat and panting when she tumbled out onto her knees.

Gaila slammed the access door shut behind Holly and helped her to her feet.

"Are you okay? What happened in there?"

"I… froze."

"Watch it!" Scotty hollered from above, pointing to the access door. "Seal the—"

Gaila yelped, slapping the panel beside the door, as Holly turned, but it was too late. The door was blown off its hinges with a tremendous noise and they had no time to react. The metal collided with them hard, knocking them over. Holly smashed to the floor and felt something break.

_There was shouting and screaming. Alarms were blaring. Someone grabbed her arm. Everything was flashing and spinning. She reached out—something was wet on her hands. Torres' eyes were wide with shock, her mouth agape. Richards was missing a limb_—

"Are you all right? _Holly_, are you all right?"

Scotty was by Gaila's side, arm around her as she tried to sit up, while Kryst was hovering over Holly, his face lined with worry.

She wanted to nod but her head hurt too much, so instead she managed a groan of assent. As she struggled to sit up, Kryst stopped her, pressing a firm hand to her uninjured shoulder.

"The medics are coming. Just—don't move." He said and she didn't like his tone one bit. "And don't look down."

Holly scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion—_don't look down_?—and looked anyway. Down on her left shin, she realized that was _bone_ outside of her skin. The contents of her stomach rushed up and her vision swam—fortunately, she blacked out before she could throw up.

* * *

Gaila and Holly had taken the brunt of the door when it came off, each winning a broken limb for their trouble. Kryst and Scotty, thankfully, hadn't been too far away, Scotty had cut the power, and Kryst had pulled the two women to safety. They were both bandaged and splinted, but it wasn't until later in the evening when the sedation wore off.

McCoy hurried to Holly's bedside when she groaned loudly. "Good, you're awake. How're you feeling?"

She groaned again. "Like I got flattened by a big metal door?"

She winced and struggled to sit up a little bit. Holly glanced across the room at Gaila, who was still unconscious. Scotty was holding her hand, asleep at an awkward angle in the chair beside her bed.

"I've already heard Scotty's report, but," said McCoy. "Holly, what happened?"

She dropped her gaze to her hands. "I may not have… gotten out when I was told."

"_Why_?"

"I was just about done, and it was _my_ plan to bypass the circuits and…" Holly covered her face with her hands. "I froze again."

McCoy shook his head, wanting to be angry with her, but her voice was so small that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He sighed heavily.

"Oh, Holly…"

He was gladder than he could say that she hadn't been hurt worse. His mind was filled with images from that day on the bridge when he'd had to drag her into the turbolift. There was something about her that made him feel so defensive, like he _needed _to protect her. Not that it was his job as her doctor, or even as a friend or someone who found himself caring a great deal for her.

_But there's no room for this_, he thought. _For me._

He could see how much she was hurting. It was the reason why he'd badgered Kirk to stay away from Holly, and why he refused to act on the growing feelings he himself had, despite Kirk's urging. McCoy already felt like a hypocrite for even considering giving her a hug—it was bad enough that he'd already crossed that line once already.

He settled for placing his hand gently on Holly's shoulder for a moment, and then let her be. He shook his head to clear it—he had work to do.

* * *

McCoy found Kirk pouring over logs and piles of paperwork in his ready room that evening.

"I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Bones?" Kirk asked, then looked up with a sly grin on his face. "Is this about Holly? Are you finally taking the plunge?"

McCoy frowned. "You know why I can't."

Kirk sighed with frustration. "I know why you _think_ you can't."

The doctor shook his head, exasperated.

"C'mon Bones, just _be happy_ —I can see how much… _lighter _you are around her. I know you! Just let go and be—"

"I'm not getting into this," McCoy cut him off sharply. "That's not why I'm here." He took a deep breath. "Jim, has it occurred to you that all the problems with the ship are being caused by… Holly or her friends?"

Kirk narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"Look, all I'm saying is that the timing lines up."

"She wouldn't…" Kirk shook his head. "Why would Holly be sabotaging the ship? Or any of them, for that matter?"

"That's what I haven't figured out yet."

"No way. That doesn't make any sense."

"Jim, it makes _all kinds of sense—_that's the problem. Ships break, it happens, but since the day we picked them up, it's been one issue after another. We were supposed to be back on Earth, handing over that drive, _weeks_ ago. Someone doesn't want us to reach Earth."

"You're being paranoid."

McCoy grimaced. Maybe he _was_ a worrier and overthinker, and sure, more than a little paranoid. But _he_ at least had learned something from Delta Paven: his paranoia had turned out to be right on the money.

"And you," he said. "As usual, are refusing to look at all the angles."

"As usual—?" Kirk balked. "When was the last time I didn't consider every outcome? And _don't_ you dare say Delta Paven, because that is your _go to_ response every time I screw up."

McCoy huffed, then said, "You're reckless and trusting, Jim. It's a deadly combination, and it keeps getting you into trouble—which is what got us into trouble last time, which is _why_ I keep bringing it up."

"Yes, but I've _learned_ from that, haven't I?"

"_Have_ you?"

The pair glared at each other for several minutes, and it was clear they weren't going to meet eye to eye. Delta Paven had been a huge mistake, in every way.

"I'm never going to stop owing you for Delta Paven, am I?" Kirk mumbled.

McCoy crossed his arms and dropped his gaze, declining to answer. He hated fighting with Jim who was by far the closest friend he had. They'd had each other's back since the Academy, and being on bad terms with Kirk made McCoy feel alone. But he wasn't going to bend on this issue. He _did_ suspect sabotage, even though he didn't want to. He hadn't said anything because he felt he was being paranoid. The trajectory of this entire mission was making him uneasy—his friend's attitude was all too familiar.

"Well, thanks for the input." Kirk finally said after the silence had stretched long enough.

"Anytime." McCoy replied. He turned on his heel and left the room. He stewed and grumbled all the way back to sick bay.


	12. Chapter 12

Confined to the sick bay, Holly was sure she was going to go insane from boredom. At first it hadn't been so bad with Gaila there to talk to. The other woman had been forgiving, though Holly still felt hot with guilt—freeze up or no, she'd still blatantly ignored Gaila's warnings.

After Gaila had left, however, her arm in a sling, Holly was left to her own devices. McCoy was always busy doing paperwork or tending to the occasional patient that she didn't get the chance to talk to him. The nurses were busy too, so aside from a few minutes here or there, they weren't much company, either. Then there was Ford, still lifeless, over in the corner. Holly mostly pretended that area was empty.

She was finally cleared to leave several days later, but back in her quarters, she felt even more restless. She couldn't return to Engineering with the large brace on her leg, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to or if she was allowed back. The moment that door had smashed her to the ground still clung to her.

Holly attempted to make herself useful and keep busy in the garden, but getting down to the ground in that brace (and back up again) was impossible. She hobbled around the area on crutches but was sore and frustrated after a very short amount of time.

So it was before the end of that day, she found herself in sick bay again.

* * *

"You're back—we don't have a session until tomorrow, you know," said McCoy after a cursory glance up.

"I can't sit around doing nothing."

"Yes, you can," McCoy said gruffly. "If you want to heal, that's exactly what you're going to do. You've been through this song and dance before."

Holly glared. "McCoy, I _cannot_ do nothing."

Her tone made him look properly at her. This wasn't simply an issue of boredom. She needed distraction, something he knew all too well. That look in her eye was fierce and sad and intensely persuasive. He felt his resolve wavering.

He heaved a deep sigh and went in to his office, scooped up a large pile of unclassified reports from a corner amid the mess, and held them out to Holly. Her face brightened immediately as she took them.

"These need to be entered into the system. It's pretty straight forward, I just haven't had time to get to them." He explained. "Everything you read is strictly confidential, you understand?"

Holly nodded. "Thank you, McCoy."

"Just stay off the leg, will you?" he snapped, grabbing his hand scanner and heading away to perform check-ups on his patients.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me." Kirk covered his face with his hand, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

Scotty sighed heavily. "I wish I was, Captain, believe me. I promise I'm more tired of this than you are."

"_Another_ week? Scotty, what the hell is causing all this stuff?"

The engineer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "That's the thing, Captain. I can't help but feel… well, I don't want to be accusing anyone wrongfully, but… too many coincidences…"

"Are you saying someone is deliberately causing this?" said the captain, and Scotty looked relieved that he hadn't had to say the words himself.

"At this point sir, I can't think of a better explanation."

Kirk frowned, feeling as though his shoulders just got about ten times heavier. "I don't suppose we have any clues as to _who_ is causing everything down there?"

Scotty was even more uneasy than before. "That's the thing, Captain. I'd vouch for my crew, seeing has how I've worked close with 'em going on a few years now. And we haven't had any problems until…" He trailed off and glanced pleadingly at Spock, who took mercy on the engineer and finished the sentence for him.

"Until we brought aboard the surviving members of the _Chronos_."

Kirk's shoulders felt even heavier. The ship wasn't perfect, things did break on occasion, but there _had_ been a near-steady stream of small incidents, increasing in severity and frequency, since the others had come aboard. The idea had seemed crazy when McCoy had first spoke of it, but he hadn't stopped thinking about it since. He couldn't deny the timing was extremely suspect.

"Captain, until such time that we can verify the exact source of these disturbances," said Spock. "It may be wise to restrict their access."

The captain didn't particularly like that idea, but didn't feel that he had much of a choice. And he didn't have any better ideas either.

"See to it, Mr. Spock."

* * *

At first, nothing was different. Holly tediously entered details upon details into the system. When Nurse Chapel finally forced McCoy to take his lunch break, he brought food back for Holly since it was so difficult for her to move around. In the evenings, she would wrap things up and have her sessions with McCoy, which usually began with her talking about herself and ended with her getting him to talk a little about himself.

As the days went by, however, little things began to change. Her shoulders felt a little lighter, she smiled a little easier. McCoy started eating lunch with her, grumbling about how there was no point for him to retrieve food for her and have them both eating alone. She learned that she could make McCoy laugh, and something about that made her heart lift. He didn't offer smiles freely, and earning those felt like a big deal, too.

The more hours and days that passed, the more he seemed to open to her, bit by bit, and so did she. He wasn't warm by nature, but once she cracked his tough exterior, he had a wicked sense of humor and was more of softie than he would let on.

She noticed that when he was restraining himself from making a snarky comment, he would press his lips together and one side of his mouth would tighten in a sort of subtle half-frown. He tended to do it when he was concentrating or agitated. It became a silent game of hers to see if she could make that frown disappear when he was annoyed about something.

One night after the nurses had cleaned up and left, and the lights were dimmed down, McCoy joined her in his office, gently shutting the door behind him. It'd been a long day.

"I'm impressed," he said with a grunt, glancing around his office. The modest couch was actually clear of papers.

"I try," Holly smiled. "Still up for a session?"

McCoy nodded and settled down on the couch. She joined him a moment later, still limping awkwardly on her healing leg, but at least the brace was gone now.

"McCoy…" she began, hesitant, and he waited, patient as ever when he was with her. "I think I… I'm ready."

He lifted his chin slightly. "If you're sure. I know I was pushing you before, but…"

"I'm sure."

Maybe it was the way McCoy listened, the way he was there for here recently, or maybe the way she felt so much trust in him, but she wanted to face things—she wanted to tell him what happened, finally _wanted_ to dealwith what happened.

She started slow, expecting it to be hard. It certainly wasn't easy, talking about the moments leading up to the _Chronos_ breaking and exploding around her. But the more she talked, the more she felt like a vice was slowly opening on her heart. Relief rushed in to replace the heartache. It hurt, it was painful, and she cried. But McCoy held her hand tight and she got through it.

"I can't stop… picturing it," she said when she'd finished.

Holly swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks and McCoy gave her other hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I have this nightmare," he began. "That I'm walking along, completely normal. Then my mouth feels all funny, so I stop and touch my hand to my lips, and all my teeth fall out. Just pouring out, rotten and broken. It's awful."

Holly stared at him a moment hastily supressed a laugh. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It _sounds _awful. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I told you I was bad at this," McCoy grumbled. "My point is that things are often worse in your head—your imagination, your nightmares—than in real life. You never actually _saw_ Charlie die. You don't even know how he died. Your subconscious is just using your fears—effectively, sure, but they're just fears. They can only hurt you if you let them."

She nodded slowly, considering his words. It made sense, but she didn't see how she could stop herself from dreaming. After a few moments of comfortable silence, in which he pressed his lips together in that tight little half-frown, he finally spoke.

"I was married once," McCoy said quietly. "And it was great for a while, but after she was gone… It was hard. It was so hard, I couldn't get out of bed most mornings. If I did, then I went straight to the liquor cabinet and drank until I passed out."

"Did she… die?"

"Worse." McCoy grunted. Then, in possibly the saddest tone Holly had ever heard, he added, "She stopped loving me."

Her heart broke for him, but she held back from reaching for him. They were both emotional and vulnerable at the moment, and she didn't know how he would react. She settled for squeezing his hand the way he'd done to her moments earlier.

"I'm not trying to say what I went through is comparable to what you're going through. I just… I'm familiar with grief. And loss. I know how it can mess you up." He swallowed and met her gaze. It was pained and conflicted and something else was there too, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Then he was closed off, waving his hand dismissively. "Ah, never mind. I _told_ you I was no good at this stuff."

"You're better than you think," Holly said softly.

He met her eyes again and suddenly she felt an ache in her chest that had nothing to do with the pain of losing Charlie or the empathy she'd felt listening to McCoy. Her breath was catching in her throat, her pulse racing…

He stood up, clearing his throat, seeming oblivious to her sudden physical discomfort.

"Well, it's awfully late. You should get going."

She gave her head a shake to clear it and got up off the couch also. "Right, of course. I'll… see you soon."

"Goodnight, Holly."

* * *

As soon as her form disappeared out of the sick bay doors, McCoy collapsed in a heap back down on the couch in office.

What the_ hell_ was wrong with him?

He was supposed to be her doctor, her friend, her _therapist_, for God's sake, and there he was seriously considering kissing her.

_Not to mention the fact that she may or may not be a goddamn mole_, McCoy thought heatedly and swore under his breath. He _had _to get these emotions under control—every last one of them.

He found himself watching her from across the room: the curve of her neck, the little crease in her forehead when she was concentrating, the way her lips tipped up in an easy smile when she talked to him, made him smile right back, like it was right and natural and they'd been doing it for years…

He rose from the couch and stormed around in circles in the office. There was no room for this. His reasoning for trying to protect Holly in the first place had been from a professional stand point—he was her doctor, charged with her care and healing. Having feelings for her crossed that line. And _God,_ he'd even told her about his ex-wife. Most of his friends knew he was divorced, but only Kirk knew the details.

Even if the circumstances allowed, McCoy knew it would never work. He was bitter, cynical and had so much baggage. Not to mention their age difference—he was probably close to ten years older than her. No, he was no good for her. He didn't care what Kirk said.

McCoy slowed to a stop, breathing heavily, angry with himself. There was no other course of action, he decided. This had to stop, _now_, before his feelings became any more serious and completely out of control.

* * *

"You haven't seen Dal around, have you?" asked Kryst the following morning when Holly emerged from her quarters to head to breakfast.

Holly shrugged. "No, I haven't seen him since lunch yesterday. He hasn't already left for the mess hall?"

Kryst shook his head. "I've been there and back already."

"No idea then. Why?"

Her friend frowned. "Well, I went by his quarters yesterday evening and he wasn't there. I thought he might be in the rec room, but he wasn't there, or the mess hall either."

"So?"

"Well, it's not like Dal to be missing or exploring, is it?"

She agreed, but she frankly could care less what Dal did with his spare time. "Maybe he was in the gym," she offered half-heartedly.

"_I_ was in the gym until I went looking for him," said Kryst. "He wasn't there when I'd checked everywhere else either."

"I wouldn't worry about it. As he loves to remind me, he's a mature, responsible adult and can take care of himself, so screw off, thank you very much, princess."

Kryst laughed, snapping and sharp like a dog's bark. "You sound just like him."

"Well, you spend enough time with people…" Holly smirked.

When they arrived in the mess hall for breakfast, it was clear at once that something was wrong. The Engineering crew was absent, and there seemed to be a heightened level of noise in the room. Holly and Kryst exchanged worried glances and joined Jem who was already seated.

"What's going on?" Holly asked.

"Late last night a fuel line ruptured," Jem explained grimly. "Unless they can get it repaired soon, the _Enterprise_ will have to dock at the next planet it sees for repairs. As it is, they likely will have to stop to refuel."

"What is going _on_ with this ship?" Kryst shook his head incredulously.

"That's not the worst of it."

Holly braced herself. "Worse than running out of fuel?"

"People are saying it was intentional. That someone or some _ones_ are trying to stop this ship from reaching Earth."

"What? Why would someone do that?" Holly set down her glass of juice.

"That is unclear." Jem glanced around the room and Holly immediately felt a horrible sinking feeling steal over her.

"They think it's us, don't they?"

"That is the most popular opinion."

Kryst started into a hot-tempered rant about the whole thing, though he had the presence of mind to keep his voice relatively low. Dal plopped down at their table in the middle of it, looking completely non-plussed as he stabbed at his eggs. Another unpleasant feeling prickled over Holly: suspicion.

"What's everybody gabbing about?" Dal said. "What happened now? Something else blow up?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah," Holly snapped. "Where've you been?"

"As if that's any of your business, princess," he shot back and Holly shot an _I-told-you-so_ look at Kryst. "Dealing with the lighting strips in sector D, if you _must_ know."

"Were you really?"

Dal stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Oh, I see, because I wasn't in your line of sight for the past twenty-four hours, I must've had something to do with the latest issues on this ship, is that it?"

Jem patted the air with her hands. "Calm down, Holly was only curious."

"It sounded more like an accusation," Dal grumbled.

"You might hear a lot more of that soon," Kryst interjected. "Jem says the suspicion is swirling that _we_ had something to do with all the engine trouble."

Dal mumbled a string of curses under his breath and for once Holly knew exactly how he felt. She took back her earlier feelings of suspicion—he have been unpleasant, but she couldn't see any point to his deliberately causing problems on _Enterprise_. Just because he wasn't keen on going back to Earth didn't mean he was the one sabotaging the mission. She wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of getting dumped there either, and _she_ wasn't running around wrecking warp manifolds.

For once, she took the high road.

"It's just paranoia," she said with more confidence than she felt. "We all know we're innocent. They'll figure it out too, soon enough."

* * *

For the next few days, however, they didn't. No one was outwardly accusing or hostile, but Holly felt a general coolness that hadn't been there before.

People like Gaila or Ensign Frey who'd she previously spent some evenings playing games with in the rec room were suddenly absent or busy. They were polite and apologetic, but, coupled with everything else, she couldn't help feeling like a bit of an outcast all of the sudden. Even Kirk, who she previously had counted on to relieve her stress through sparring sessions, was curiously keeping his distance.

_You too?_ She thought when he declined her offer to play pool. He promised to make it up to her, but he left all the same.

She was more withdrawn than usual as she continued with the paperwork McCoy had tasked her with, and so was he. He seemed distracted and had to cancel their sessions temporarily, chalking it up to a flu outbreak. Holly missed his company sharply, not realizing just how much she had looked forward to their sessions until there weren't any. She felt even more slighted when it came from him—she had thought he would believe her, dismiss the rumors as hogwash and carry on with his day. She wondered how he could think she could do that, but couldn't find the words to ask—she didn't want to hear the answer.

Jem chose to spend most of her down time in her quarters instead of in the rec room. Holly couldn't understand how she could sit still, but understood the need to be away from the looks.

Dal was quietly furious, muttering under his breath often and glaring at anyone who so much as greeted him. He wasn't helping his case, but he sharply told her off when she tried to tell him so.

Kryst seemed to be faring the best, trying to shrug it all off. As a result, Holly found she liked hanging around him the most, and begun lifting weights with him while waiting for her leg to heal. He even helped her do her physical therapy exercises, something she'd previously been doing with McCoy.

"Don't let the rumors get you down," he said, one evening as they were huddled in a corner of the rec room attempting unsuccessfully to play Skrye. "It'll all work out."

* * *

**A/n:** Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Despite Kryst's reassurance, Holly had trouble sleeping. She had made progress with the nightmares and had gone at least a week without one, but the rumors still swirled around the ship and made her restless. It was no secret that the problems had started when she and the others had come aboard, and she understood that they looked guilty.

_But they know me_, she thought desperately. _I've been here for months, and I've made friends with these people. I've spent countless hours at their side, _repairing_ the damage. How could they think I _caused _it?_

It stung the worst coming from Kirk and McCoy. She was closet to them of any of the _Enterprise_ crew, and she cared for them, and they both had helped her: Kirk first by being her friend, then McCoy by taking care of her.

Finally after several days of feeling cut off, she couldn't stand it a moment longer—she needed answers.

Holly flung off her blanket and changed clothes. Jem didn't stir as Holly left the room. She padded down the halls and realized both men were probably asleep. Her confrontation plan had seemed like a good idea when she was tossing and turning, watching the minutes tick by, but now it seemed stupid.

She sighed and wandered towards sick bay. There was no reason why McCoy would be there, but he was. The doors, normally locked at night, slid open when she neared, and she saw the light from McCoy's computer casting a blue glow in his office. She always turned it off before she left.

Holly entered sick bay tentatively, not certain she was even _allowed _to be there so late at night. She could see McCoy in his chair beside the couch, one elbow resting on his thigh and his face covered by his palm. For a second she thought he'd fallen asleep that way until she heard him sigh. She cleared her throat to announce her presence.

* * *

McCoy swore and jumped to his feet, sending a pile of papers cascading off the desk. "Holly, what are you—you gave me a _heart attack_!"

"Sorry," she bit her lip. "I didn't think anyone would be here. I wasn't going to come in, but… I saw your light, and…"

He huffed and mumbled some more expletives, bending down to scoop up the mess of papers. She stooped to help him, but he pulled away from her proximity. Her being here was the _last_ thing he needed right now.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly.

"I couldn't sleep. I needed someone to talk to."

He _hmphed_ as he restacked the paperwork on his desk. "Well, can't it wait until morning? I've got to get some sleep myself and—"

"Stop it." She said, sounding hurt. "Stop acting so cold."

McCoy glanced up at once, finally meeting her eyes. "Holly…" he rubbed his temple—he could feel a headache coming on.

"No, I get it. We're the bad guys. You were all doing fine until you picked us up, and now everything's breaking apart, so why _wouldn't _you suspect us. I get it, I do."

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I see it from your side. I see why everyone's running around, suddenly keeping their distance. I see why my access card suddenly doesn't work in half as many places as it used to." Holly crossed her arms over her chest, but then dropped the heated tone she'd been using. "What I don't understand is why _you_ didn't just _ask me_ if it was true or it—if I had anything to do with it."

McCoy clenched his jaw. God, if only it were that easy.

"I didn't, in case you were wondering. I know about as much about what's been happening as you do."

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her with all his heart—the one that was currently racing because she was standing _right there_, while his arms remembered how it felt to hold her, and his fingers wanted to lace between hers, and his lips…

But there was no proof of her innocence, nor of her friends', for that matter.

_There's no proof of her guilt, either,_ he thought.

McCoy knew that Kirk was doing his best to run scans, scour security footage and dig up access logs, but so far everything had come up as dead ends—they were going as fast as they could. There was not enough to prove _anyone_ was causing trouble, let alone one person. Let alone Holly.

If only his suspicions about her were the only thing plaguing him.

"McCoy…" she stepped closer to him.

He turned away from her slightly, clenching his jaw. She knew him better than he thought, because she could tell he was holding something back.

"There's something else, isn't there?" she asked softly. "Another reason why you haven't been talking to me?"

He faced her then, shaking his head. "God, Holly… You have to make this so goddamn difficult."

"Just tell me. Whatever it is."

He almost laughed, brushing past her to settle on the couch. "You have no idea, do you?"

She looked at him searchingly and sat down beside him. "About what?"

"You get this look in your eye sometimes, and it's… _compelling_." His gaze was intense and he drew slightly nearer. "It's the type of look that make people want to trust you, protect you."

"If I knew I had that kind of power, I would've used it more often," she joked, though her laughter was soft and nervous.

"This isn't just about the engine trouble." He finally said, his voice a low rumble that brought a flush rushing to her cheeks.

"I'm getting that," she replied.

Holly reached for him, and clasped her hand around his. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. His pulse was racing and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her senseless. Then she was easing closer, and his lips parted slightly—

McCoy was on his feet like a shot, knocking over the chair and startling her severely.

"What? What it is?" She asked.

He'd backed away from her like she contagious, pressed his back to the office door. "I can't—we can't."

He could feel her watching him carefully and he struggled to rein his emotions in as he reached for the door controls. She got to her feet at once, striding over and stopping him from leaving. He hated how her hand felt on his as she moved it away from the controls, because he craved her touch, _ached_ for her to be close and knew he couldn't, shouldn't.

He turned to her, slow, reluctant.

"Damn it Holly," he whispered. "This can't happen."

There were so many reasons to stop. He was too old for her, he had too much baggage and so did she. She was still grieving, he was no good for her, and she was still _leaving _when the _Enterprise_ reached Earth.

There was also still the possibility that she was the saboteur on the ship. He didn't want to believe it, but maybe she was just an extraordinarily good liar. He had no idea what her reasons were, but some criminals didn't have reasons. They liked chaos, they liked disorder. Hell, maybe she was getting paid for her trouble for all he knew.

The logical part of his brain knew all this. It weighed it all and told—no, _demanded_ that he walk away. The rest of him was caught like a fish in a net with that _look_ of hers, making him feeling like he would follow her to the end of the universe and back without question.

They were standing inches apart, not quite touching aside from her hand on his, silent, holding one another's gaze, trying to read the other's thoughts.

He _had_ to make her see this could not work. She was just vulnerable and confused, and it wasn't fair for her to get mixed up with someone like him.

"You don't want me." He said a few moments later, casting around for more reasons to end this, this… whatever it was. It wasn't hard to find more. "You only think you want me because I saved you—because I was on the ship that day and promised to get you out. For all your bravado, Holly, you _want_ to be rescued. And I'm not your goddamn knight in shining armor."

He moved away from the door, going around her and turning his back. It was easier that way—when he couldn't see those eyes of hers.

"McCoy… I do. I want you."

He shook his head, making a sneering, scoffing noise. "I'm a bitter old man. I'm divorced and cynical and dark."

Couldn't she see that? Hadn't she spent enough time with him to _know_ that?

"You're not that old and you're less bitter than you act," Holly insisted. She came around so she was facing him again. "I _like_ that you're cynical and dark. Stop act like you're too damaged to care."

"You're emotionally vulnerable." He said stubbornly.

"You're too noble." She shot back.

She closed the distance between them.

He started to protest again, but she stopped him, covering his mouth with her hand briefly to quiet him before gently pulling it away.

"I want you. I _want_. _You_."

And she couldn't be held back any longer. She crashed her lips onto his.

_Damn it,_ he thought. _Damn it all to hell._

He responded to the kiss fiercely, snaking one arm around her waist, tangling his other hand in her wavy brown hair. She clutched at his shirt, at his neck. The kiss deepened and it was hungry and desperate, full of unspoken things and passion. She smelled intoxicating—faintly flowery and fruity—and his lips couldn't stop tasting her.

They stumbled about the room, hands going everywhere. He kissed her neck, her jaw, and his skin felt like it was burning where she touched him. She whispered his name and he moaned, hand trailing down her arm, her waist. He captured her mouth again and kissed her furiously, like the world was ending and they only had seconds.

When they broke apart, panting and buzzing with sensation, he turned away, covering his eyes with his hand. He'd completely lost control. All the reasons he'd come up with—all the walls he'd built up, all his carefully constructed arguments—had come crashing down in one fiery moment of desire. He felt ashamed and angry at himself.

"You'd better go." He said quietly, heart pounding in his chest.

"McCoy, I'm sorry, I…"

"Holly." He snapped. He was uncomfortable and stiff as he turned to face her. He needed regain control and he couldn't do that with her standing there. "You need to leave."

Holly swallowed hard—he could see tears forming in her eyes and felt a pang of guilt. "Fine. Goodnight, then."

She rushed past him, hand over her trembling lips.

McCoy shut the office door and sunk down to the floor. _Idiot, idiot, idiot…_

* * *

The next morning, Holly awoke to a ship-wide message for all available engineers to report immediately, and she thought it sounded serious. Though she no longer worked in Engineering, Ensign Frey was pounding on her door moments later, saying they needed her too, as soon as possible. She threw on fresh clothes and in the hallway, was greeted by a pair of security officers. They gestured for her to follow and hurried to the nearest turbolift. There was no time for her to dwell on the previous night.

When they arrived, it was organized chaos. Crew members were darting back and forth, some with PADDs, some with parts and wires, others shouting orders or receiving them and hastening away to carry them out. The guards led her through the mess.

_What the hell happened?_ Holly thought with mounting trepidation. It was the first time she'd been in Engineering since the accident with Gaila and the tube, and the memory hit her sideways, making her shudder. She fought back the emotions—_you can handle this_. _This is not like last time._

"There you are!" Gaila said, snapping Holly from her thoughts. She waved the guards off and told Holly to follow her.

"What happened?"

They wove through various engineers running this way and that, passing a section of the main warp manifold that was smoking and sizzling. Holly caught a glimpse and her eyes widened.

"Gaila—the _engine._"

"I know," the redheaded said grimly. "Half of us got called out of bed at three this morning, and the more we've been trying to fix things, the worse it's been getting. Everything is on the fritz down here."

Holly was unsure why she suddenly seemed to be back in the fold, but the question died in her throat as they reached the room where the drive from _Chronos_ was kept. The door was as thick as a safe's and accessible only with a special key card. It was hanging open, but was severely damaged. It had been partially melted, with strips of metal peeled back, creating a sizeable, jagged hole. It was too small for a person to climb through, but it was clear that someone had been trying to get at the drive by burning a hole through the door.

Gaila gestured again, as Holly had stopped walking to stare, and they went into the room together, past another pair of burly security guards. Inside, Scotty was kneeling beside the drive which was hissing softly and spewing dark, sticky liquid onto the floor.

"Holly, thank heaven—we don' know what to do with this, and with everythin' else—"

"We got this, Scotty," said Gaila, shooting him a warm smile.

He sighed, frazzled, and hastened out the door, calling out orders.

"We don't know what caused it, or how to stop it," she continued, kneeling beside Holly. "We were hoping you would."

Holly bit her lip. She'd never seen the drive this bad, not even when Kryst had mistakenly given it salt and sealant, and that had made it smell rancid and leak murky green residue. She was by no means an expert, but she was probably the closest thing to one, having been the primary mechanic to work with it on _Chronos_.

She glanced at the guards in the entryway, remembered how damaged the door was and how she'd been escorted down to Engineering. It bothered her more that whatever was wrong had been _intentional_, though to what end she could not say.

"I think it's been poisoned," she said a moment later. The dark muck was all over her hands. It was curiously the consistency of thick chocolate syrup, and smelled about as sweet, though there was a strong pungent edge to it.

Gaila watched Holly work in fascination. "Can we fix it? Like, do we need to give it an antidote or something?"

"That would be the best idea, if I knew _what_ poisoned it."

When Kryst had accidentally poisoned it before, she'd spent almost two days alternately cleaning it with water and administering its proper feeding solution. She'd had to rewire the data panel, realign the sensor array, and they'd nearly been sucked into a particularly volatile category six and killed without it. Until she thought of a better solution, she decided she'd just have to try water and hope for the best.

* * *

When Kirk had received word about what was happening in Enterprise's engine room, he'd been just about to have his security team round up Holly and her friends when McCoy had burst in, insisting Holly hadn't done it. When Kirk calmed his friend down enough, the doctor had explained.

"She was with me." He confessed reluctantly.

"Like _with_ you, with you? Or just…"

"We were… she couldn't sleep. She saw the light on in sick bay. We talked. That was all." He added the last part a little too emphatically.

"You're a bad liar, Bones." He said, his tone too amused to be a reprimand.

McCoy frowned and the look on his face warned Kirk not to joke.

Kirk wanted more details but didn't have the time to ask. He suddenly had a major emergency on his hands and his friend's love life would have to wait.

* * *

"Talk to me, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, we are experiencing a number of high-level incidents in Engineering." His first officer reported. "The main warp engine is down, and several systems have sustained damage. A chain reaction of power surges appear to have overloaded the reactor.

"Further, the drive from the _Chronos_ has been compromised. It seems that someone may have used a plasma torch to attempt to breach the room where it is being kept, and proceeded to impair the drive. Mr. Scott assures me that Miss Cameron is down there now, attempting to repair it."

Spock hesitated. "Pardon me, but, is it safe to allow Miss Cameron to…?"

"She's being watched by security," Kirk answered. "And Dr. McCoy vouched for her whereabouts last night—she was not involved in the incident."

Spock gave Kirk a rundown of the affected systems on the ship that were damaged or in need of repair. Sulu set their course for the nearest Federation planet, Dahtoowi, hoping they could limp there before fuel completely ran out—or something worse happened. With full warp and fuel, they weren't more than a few days away from Earth. Kirk would have simply sent out a distress signal, but the communication system was down.

Kirk turned to the issue of the _Chronos _drive. Very few people knew about it, per Starfleet's orders, and locking it away in Engineering was a security measure he hadn't thought he'd need.

"Do we have security footage for that room?" asked the captain.

Spock shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Captain. With the multiple system failures last night and this morning, the security cameras have gone offline and are proving difficult to recover. We are going through the limited footage we do have, to help verify the whereabouts of the crew."

Kirk's frown deepened. Previously, he'd had only suspicions, but this sounded like proof that someone was trying to sabotage his ship. Without the cameras, however, there was little they could simply prove.

_There's more than one way to skin a cat,_ he thought grimly.

He set Spock and Chekov to work pulling up access logs for different parts of the ship where systems had been compromised. With such a massive crew, it was going to take time to sift through all the ship's data, but hopefully the mole had made a mistake.

Once Holly had tended to the _Chronos_ drive, he would have to question her, but in the meantime, he would see to her former crew mates.

Sulu informed him that they would be docking at Dahtoowi in a few short hours.

* * *

**A/n:** Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated. :D


	14. Chapter 14

**A/n:** So I keep getting a pile of hits on this story, but I have no idea if y'all like it! If you have a sec, I'd love any sort of feedback - what you like, don't like, etc. :D And, hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"Jim—thank _God._" Holly rushed across her room to meet him as he entered her quarters. "No one will tell me anything—security has been _escorting_ me around all morning."

Kirk asked in flat tone, "Is it fixable?"

"I don't know. I'm trying, although I've never seen it so bad before." Holly watched him uneasily. "Jim, _what_ is going on?"

He gestured for her to have a seat, so she settled down on the edge of the bed. Kirk grabbed a chair and sat a few feet from her. She shifted anxiously.

"I need to know where you were last night." He locked his gaze with hers.

She hesitated. She surmised that the _Chronos _crew were going to come under fire soon—all the minor suspicions that had been circulating recently suddenly appeared to have truth to them. She still refused to believe Jem, Kryst or even Dal were directly involved, but there was no longer any doubt that someone was intentionally causing issues. Lying about her whereabouts would only make it worse.

"Holly," Kirk prodded firmly. "Where were you?"

"I… worked in the sick bay all day. Afterwards, I was in the rec room with Jem, Kryst and Dal. I went to bed, and I couldn't sleep. So I got up to walk around. Eventually I was tired enough I went back to bed." It was all true, she just conveniently omitted the part where she found McCoy.

"Anything _else_?"

She swallowed and realized he already knew.

"I… stopped at sick bay. Doctor McCoy was there and we talked."

Kirk chuckled. "You're as bad a liar as he is."

"We kissed, once…" Her chest felt tight with worry. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, nothing to be sorry for there," he said. "I've been telling him for weeks to make a move."

Holly stared at him, surprised. "You… did?"

"I did." His smile faded and he was all business again. "Well, now that we got that out of the way. I have some questions to ask."

"Jim…"

"It's Captain Kirk." His tone wasn't cold, but it made her even more uneasy. This wasn't a chat between friends—this was serious.

Holly suddenly felt like crying and bit the inside of her cheek hard to try and stop herself. She hadn't been accused yet—there was no reason to be upset.

"I have several members of my crew combing through access logs and security footage as we speak. They are going to discover who the mole aboard my ship is, once and for all. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

She swallowed. She still felt off-kilter by this whole thing, but knew she was innocent. She had nothing to hide.

"Ji– Captain, I don't know what to tell you." She replied and took a breath. "I have had nothing to do with any of the problems or damage that have occurred since we were rescued. I'm sure your logs will show that."

"Are you working with one or more of your friends?"

"No."

"Do you have information regarding one of the others in reference to the attacks on Engineering?"

"No."

"Do you have any reason to sabotage this ship and stop its progress to Earth?"

"_No._"

"Do any of your friends?"

"Not that I know of, _sir._"

He eyed her critically and she held his gaze fiercely.

_Please Jim,_ she thought. _Please believe me—I'm innocent, and so are the others_. She wasn't about to accuse any of his crew in the matter, but she wondered if she and the former _Chronos_ crew were being framed.

"What are your skills?"

"What?" The question caught her completely off guard.

"What are you best at—what did you do back on _Chronos?_"

She blinked at him. He knew this already, so why was he asking? She answered anyways.

"Mechanics and bio-science. I made repairs on the ship and took care of the warp drive."

"Anything else?"

"Well, I… I helped out with other duties, but that—those were my job."

"What about Jem?" Kirk leaned back in his chair.

"She was the medic, mainly. She also did some piloting, she helped Charlie with plotting courses… She made stuff—she was good at just putting things together and making whatever we needed. Like medical salves or engine sealant, or meals when we didn't have the right ingredients, whatever."

"And Kryst?"

Holly frowned. They'd _had_ this conversation, and she said as much.

"Humor me."

Holly continued, "Kryst fixed things, like me, in the engine room. He's good with all kinds of tech, though, not just mechanical stuff. He cooked, he cleaned—we all did."

"Dal?"

"I don't know—everything. He piloted primarily, but he'd help me sometimes, or Jem, or Kryst, or Charlie with whatever we were doing. He was handy with explosives. He was good with tactics and logistics, strategy. He got us out us out of a jam more than once—he used to be in the military, so he… he seems to know a lot about everything." She grimaced a little—Dal tended to rub her inexperience in her face at times.

"Now, I know this is going to be hard," Kirk softened his tone considerably. "But, Holly I need you tell me _exactly_ what happened the day the _Chronos _went down."

Holly clenched her jaw briefly and after a moment, nodded. It was easier than when she'd recalled it all for McCoy, though still painful. When she finished, she only shed a few tears.

Kirk stood abruptly. "Thank you for your time." When he reached the door, he turned to her. "You are to be confined to your quarters until further notice."

The door slid shut with a soft _whoosh_ behind him. There was a loud, low beeping noise and the panel beside her door light up with red lights, indicating she was locked in. Feeling jittery and raw, Holly held it together for a few seconds before she buried her face in her pillow and began to cry softly.

* * *

"We are looking through all the access logs and security footage on this ship. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Jem's smooth, dark features were completely impassive. "No, sir, I do not."

Kirk figured she would be the most difficult to question, and he was right. His gut feelings about people weren't foolproof, of course, but he'd come to rely on his instincts because they often proved right. He was completely split when it came to Jem, however, and chalked it up to her being an alien. Was so calm and cool because she was innocent and therefore had nothing to hide? Or because she was an extremely good liar?

He asked her questions similar to the ones he'd asked Holly, alternating between giving her ample time to come up with an answer, other times snapping them out like rapid-fire, trying to test her response. She was very good, however, and didn't vary her answers. He tried to double back and contradict her, trap her, but she maintained her story.

By the time he left the room, he was still undecided.

* * *

Kryst was easier to read than Jem, but not by much.

"This is _bullshit_," Kryst huffed, slamming his fist on the table before him. "Is this because _our_ ship blew up, so now we're blowing up yours?"

"You have to admit it's pretty suspect."

"Right, because trying to nearly kill ourselves, in order to get _rescued,_ and then proceed to _blow up the goddamn rescue ship_ makes so much sense!"

"It looks more like someone is after that drive. Want to tell me why that is? What's so important about it?"

Kryst swore repeatedly and hit the table again. "It's just an engine! How the hell should I know why it's so important? _I'm not the one trying to blow it up!_"

He was erratic and had a temper, Kirk learned, and he tried to use that to his advantage. The red-headed man alternately accused his fellow _Chronos_ members as being the culprits and then defended their innocence. Even as Kryst was red in the face shouting about his own innocence, however, Kirk couldn't read if the urgency in Kryst's voice was because he was desperate to believed or was close to being caught. Something was off but he didn't know what. It could be anything from Kryst's being guilty to him simply reacting poorly under duress. The area in between was too wide, so until Kirk got something more concrete, he would have to wait.

* * *

Dal, surprisingly, was the most forthcoming. His run down of his crew mates' specialties was similar to Holly's, and he even gave Holly more credit than she had for her skills in the engine room. Given his surly and bitter demeanor, it was surprising to hear him almost boasting about the others.

When Kirk asked him about the drive, or why someone would be after it, Dal sighed heavily, suddenly looking years older in a moment.

"We signed all kinds of papers to ensure we never divulged the exact details."

"You won't come under fire for breaking those contracts," the Captain assured him. "Not from me, and not from Starfleet—I'll see to it personally. But I _have_ to know what is so important to the person trying to do this."

Dal nodded slowly, contemplating. "I suppose," he growled a moment later. "Under the circumstances, I don't really have a choice."

To be true, Kirk genuinely didn't know what to expect as an answer to his question. He had lots of theories, ranging from logical to sensationally ridiculous, but what Dal said next, floored him—he hadn't been expecting _that_.

"It contains time travel data."

Kirk blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Time travel data. As in the kind of data, that is procured _during_ a time travel event…?"

The captain stared. He'd heard of time travel of course, but Nero and his Red Matter had been a one-off, a freak of nature. That had been dealt with. So, what was the man across the table telling him? Were there more instances of time travel? Had the _Chronos_ crew experienced them too?

"I know what you're thinking," the older man almost chuckled and Kirk nearly blurted _No, you have no idea_ before Dal continued. "The team that assigned us to the _Chronos_ gathered every scrap of data they could find in relation to an event several years ago, in which a massive Romulan ship appeared from a wormhole and proceeded to destroy a number of ships. They didn't tell us this, mind you—this is stuff I only learned from Charlie eight months into the mission. He hadn't told anyone else.

"He wasn't given further details, so neither was I, and he wasn't even supposed to tell _me_." Dal grunted. "See, there had been two missions before us that never came home. Ironically named ones too, if you ask me."

"What were they called?"

"The _Alke—_the first one—means _prowess and courage_. The second one was the _Tyche_—means _fate, fortune _and _chance._"

"And _Chronos_?"

Dal smiled in a rather unsettling way. "_God of time_." He let that piece of information sink in a little before he went on. "There was no trace of the first ship after a few months, so they sent out the second one, and it disappeared even quicker. Rather than waste all their precious trained Starfleet officers, they recruited a bunch of civvies for the third mission, and then had just a few officers aboard to run things.

"By that time, they'd made some break-through with the tech, and they had high hopes for our little bucket of bolts. See, what the drive _does_ is create a dynamic force field around the ship that allows us not to get sucked in, providing we don't get too close. But a lot of the fancy new stuff you find on ships nowadays went berserk when they turned that drive on. So through trial and error, they found a bunch of old parts that would do the job without disrupting."

Kirk was amazed as he listened. He'd noted aboard the _Chronos_ how eclectically put-together it seemed. Scans hadn't been able to determine how the old the ship was because of interference from the drive.

"Our mission was to get as much data from as many worm holes, black holes, singularities, whatever you want to call 'em. But more than that, we were supposed to _seek out_ worm holes like that Romulan one. We were to find them, get close, and get data."

"But you said the data contained time travel data—if you only got close, but didn't go through, how did it pick up readings that occurred during a time travel event?"

"A probe," Dal answered. "Twice we came upon a singularity that matched the readings we were supposed to be hunting for. We tossed a probe in, sucked up the data, and high-tailed it outta there. I 'spect somewhere in the future or past they've found our space junk—the probe was built to break apart and disintegrate after 8 hours, see."

Kirk's mind was spinning with all this new information. No wonder someone wanted their hands on the drive, if it contained data about the inner workings of a time travel anomaly. But then why destroy it?

* * *

McCoy was in Kirk's ready room waiting for him when the captain arrived. Kirk collapsed into his chair with a heavy sigh.

"Well?" said the doctor.

"I believe her," Kirk said after several long moments of silence. "She says she didn't do it and I believe her."

"What about the others?"

The captain sighed again, running his hand through his golden hair. "I have no clue. I can't decide between any of them. Or all of them."

"You think they're in this together?"

"I think it's a possibility. I just don't know how or why."

"But you said you believed Holly didn't do it—they can't be in on it all together then, unless you mean all of them excluding Holly?"

"I believe she didn't do the deed herself. That doesn't mean she didn't help in some way."

McCoy frowned but nodded in understanding. Until she could prove otherwise, they had no choice but to consider that.

At that moment, an urgent page sounded for Kirk. He pressed the intercom in his room. "Kirk here."

Chekov sounded like he was bursting when he replied. "Keptin Cork, sir! We have ze logs from ze back-ups, and I zink I know who it waz!"

Kirk and McCoy exchanged uneasy glances.

"We'll be right there."

* * *

It was late evening when they came to get her.

Holly had been worried sick, pacing and crying, getting angry, exhausting herself all over again. She was dying to know what was going on, but the only contact she'd had with anyone had been when a security detail had opened a small panel at the bottom of her door and slid in a tray of food. She'd downed the tall glass of water, but hadn't touched the rest.

Her heart leapt when the door opened and Kirk entered, but she stopped dead when she saw the cloudy expression on his face. Her mouth went paper dry and though she suddenly had trouble speaking, she managed to ask one question.

"Who?"

"You had better come with me."

* * *

**A/n:** Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/n:** Hey guys, sorry for such a late update here - I was away and then life, and you know how it is. But anyways, here's the new chapter finally - sorry to leave you hanging! Also, INTO DARKNESS WAS SO FANTASTIC. Drop everything and go see it if you haven't already. ;D

* * *

They sat her down at a gray table in a small room, where McCoy and Spock already were waiting, standing near the back. Kirk settled across from her.

"We got the logs and reviewed some of the recovered security footage," he said. "Your story checks out, and you're clear in the other incidents too. We know it wasn't you."

Holly exhaled all her breath in one big rush. She laughed shakily. "Dear _God_, Jim! Lead with that next time?"

He grimaced. "Sorry. I needed to see how you would react first."

"And did I pass?"

He smiled grimly. "Flying colors."

"I always was good at tests," she replied weakly. Kirk chuckled but then the smile slipped off her features. If they didn't think it was _her…_

The captain dipped his head briefly, clenching his jaw, before bringing his stunning blue eyes up to meet hers.

"It was Dal."

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and suddenly her thoughts were darting in every direction and she couldn't latch on to just one. She wanted to yell _No!_ and _I knew it!_ at the same time. She wanted to demand to see the evidence with her own eyes and declare it a forgery. She wanted to cry again, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to find Dal and punch him in the teeth and shake him senseless.

"How do you know?"

"His access card was swiped in areas he shouldn't have been in, or at times when he shouldn't have been there. It lines up, within hours, of all the major incidents in Engineering, ever since the second week or so you were all on board." Kirk explained solemnly as Holly's head spun. "And we managed to recover a few seconds of footage from our damaged security cameras. It's grainy and it's not much, but it shows Dal heading away from Engineering minutes before everything started screwing up—before they found your drive spewing goo."

Holly rested her elbows on the table and pressed her shaking palms to her temples. It didn't make sense—why? Why would he try and destroy the drive? Why _now_, after two years without incident aboard _Chronos_? Why didn't he want this ship to reach Earth?

She and Dal had their differences—_plenty_ of them—and their arguments. They didn't particularly get along, never had—the others, Charlie in particular, were always trying to keep the peace between them. She knew he had a tumultuous history with war, knew he was bitter and angry and wouldn't talk about why, but even given that, she still couldn't picture him deliberately wrecking _Enterprise_, purposely sabotaging the mission and the drive. She was the first one to admit he was not a nice person, but that didn't make him a mole.

Yet Kirk had the evidence to say that he _was_.

"I want to talk to him," she finally said, raising her head.

Kirk glanced at McCoy and Spock. Holly had forgotten they were there.

"That's not possible, Holly."

"Please," she pleaded. "I have to talk to him. I've got to know… I just have to talk to him."

Kirk shook his head. "I can't let you question him."

When she started to protest, McCoy suggested that perhaps might be allowed to at least watch. Kirk didn't seem to like the idea much, but she thought he must've understood, because he reluctantly agreed to it.

They led her in to an adjoining room, one side of which held a large window. Through it she could see Dal, waiting patiently at a table in a plain gray room beyond. A wave of cold fury swept over her.

"Are you sure about this?" McCoy asked, by her side. "You don't have to be here. Jim will charge him, arrest him… he'll be locked up and dealt with on Earth, once the refueling and repairs are finished here."

"I'm sure." Holly replied, not taking her eyes off of Dal.

"McCoy and Spock will be right here the whole time," Kirk assured her. "He can't see or hear you—this is one-way glass—but you'll be able to hear us through the comm.

She nodded and swallowed. A moment later, she'd gathered her strength and resolve, and watched as Kirk went inside the next room to confront Dal.

* * *

Dal's features remained fairly impassive as Kirk entered the room and took a seat at the table opposite him.

"Well, Captain?"

"Did you do it, Dal?" he asked baldly. There was no point in being coy.

"Haven't we already been through this?"

"Did you try to destroy the drive," he tried again. "And try to stop _Enterprise_ from reaching Earth? I was told that you didn't want be dumped off there."

"Not keen on the idea, and crazy enough to try and blow up the damn ship are two _very_ different things, there," He said, then frowned. "You think I'm responsible for this."

"That would be why I'm here," Kirk replied. "And unfortunately for you, I also have the evidence to back it up."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Well, care to explain why you were captured, on camera, leaving the Engineering deck, moments before everything went nuts?"

Dal scrunched his brow. "I was in my damn bed."

"It'd be better if you didn't lie." Kirk said flatly.

Though he'd been calm when Kirk had questioned him earlier, Dal's temper was fast rising.

"I wasn't anywhere _near_ Engineering." He insisted.

"The cameras show otherwise," Kirk pressed. "Last chance to change your story."

"I don't _know_ what you're _talking about!"_ the older man slammed his hand on the table. "I have done _nothing_ wrong!"

"What about _Chronos_?"

"What about it?"

"Did you kill Captain Cameron?"

"I – no!" Dal spluttered. "Charlie was my friend! I wouldn't kill him—I _didn't_ kill him! And I have had nothing to do with any of the garbage going on with this ship, either! You have _no right_ to accuse me!"

"Your card was swiped, Dal. _You're on tape_."

"That has nothing to do with the _Chronos_."

Kirk crossed his arms over his chest. "I was told that you were the last one to arrive in the escape pod bay. Captain Cameron and Holly left you alone to pilot, and when they came back to the bridge, it was in fried."

"So being the last one to the party makes me _guilty?_"

"You had plenty of time to do whatever it is you did that disabled the ship, and plenty of time to kill Captain Cameron. Not to mention the fact that you showed up injured—almost like you were in a _struggle_."

He was going red in the face, fuming and furious. He was struggling to calm down, but Kirk felt like the end was close and went in for the kill.

"You had ample opportunities to finish your dirty work once you were aboard _Enterprise_. And maybe it was clever and subtle at first, but you got sloppy, Dal, and you got _caught_."

"Charlie was already dead when I found him." Dal growled, seeming to finally have regained control of himself. "I'm being set up."

"By who?" Kirk demanded.

"Someone—anyone," Dal insisted. "Jem maybe—she's very good at hiding her emotions. Have you noticed that? She's skilled at fabricating things, too—who's to say she didn't create this somehow?"

Kirk leaned back in his chair, waiting.

"Kryst, then." Dal tried. "He could've… faked the footage somehow or… or swiped my card! Even Holly—"

The captain shook his head. "We have evidence that clears her of any wrongdoing, and we're working on verifying the others."

Dal briefly deflated but then continued, even more fervent than before. "I tell you I didn't do it. Someone is setting me up—sir, you _have_ to believe me!"

"Dal Ealick, you have the right to—"

As Dal began shouting loudly over Kirk, it was clear he was grasping at straws now that he was backed into a corner. "No! He stole my card!"

"—remain silent—"

"He—they're setting me up!"

"—and anything you say—"

"_I'm being framed_!"

Dal leapt to his feet, and a number of security personnel finally came pouring into the room, followed by McCoy. Dal shouted obscenities as he was restrained forcefully by security until McCoy stabbed a hypospray into Dal's neck. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp in the men's grip at once.

* * *

In the next room, Holly was alone with Spock, watching the men dragging Dal's unconscious body from the room. She was vibrating all over, unable to process what she'd just witnessed. _Dal had killed her brother_. It couldn't be true, couldn't be _real._

_Wake up, Holly,_ she told herself.

She didn't realize she was on the floor, struggling to catch her breath, until McCoy crouched before her, taking her shaking hands in his. "Holly, are you okay?"

She couldn't reply, couldn't focus. One of his hands gently cupped her cheek and she met his eyes.

"Hey," he said. "It's okay. It's over."

Holly swallowed and nodded. _It's over_, she thought and intense relief flooded through her. _It's over. It's over, it's over…_

A moment later she was dimly aware of Spock leading her back to her quarters.

* * *

**A/n:** Thanks for reading, reviews are shiny!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/n:** So, it's my birthday today, and I thought it was the perfect time to put up the new chapter, because then your favs, follows and reviews can be like little birthday gifts! ;D

* * *

McCoy sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "That was a helluva thing."

The captain exhaled heavily, and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah. But at least it's done—we're in the clear now." He headed for the door.

"In the clear?" the doctor questioned. "Sorry, Jim, but in no way are we _in the clear_."

Kirk stopped and faced his friend. "What do you mean? We have the access logs, we have the security camera footage, you saw what just happened."

"Yeah, but he didn't actually _confess_, did he?"

The captain smirked. "He might as well have."

"Jim," McCoy stopped him again. "Think about this. He may have been coming off all kinds of crazy and desperate just now, but he had a point about Jem and Kryst."

"He was clearly trying to save his own skin," Kirk shrugged. "He was trying to shift the blame to make himself look less guilty. It's what any criminal caught red-handed would do."

"It's also what any innocent man would do."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you think he's _innocent?_ Bones, did you _see—_"

"Yes, I saw the evidence! I didn't say he _was_ innocent," McCoy persisted. "I said he _had a point_. I'm saying it's worth digging deeper before you just condemn him and not the others."

"Because he didn't straight up confess?" Kirk shook his head. "Come on, Bones, I have a gut feeling about this. We got him." For a third time he headed for the door.

"Damn it Jim, it's like Delta Paven all over again!" the doctor burst out.

Kirk whirled on his friend. "Bones, I followed my instincts about that guy, and I was wrong. I was _wrong. _Sometimes my instincts aren't right, it happens, people make mistakes."

"Yeah, and sometimes your mistakes get people _killed_. What happens if Dal really didn't do it, and you let Kryst or Jem or whoever, finish us off?"

"You didn't _die_ on Delta Paven—"

"I almost did, and that's not the _goddamn_ point!" McCoy shouted.

"Then what is? Enlighten me!"

"The point is you can't just go around, flying by the seat of your pants, going off gut feelings with no regard for how your actions affect others. If you would just _listen_ and _think_ for a second—!"

"_Affect_ –?" Kirk spluttered. "I make those decisions to save others—to save _you_. I got us out of there, I got us back, and nine times out of ten, my instincts happen to be pretty damn good. You're acting like _everything_ I do hurts someone—"

"It hurts _me!_"

McCoy's voice reverberated on the walls of the small room and they were both breathing heavy with anger and frustration.

Kirk tried in vain to rein himself in. He growled, "I don't know how many times I have to apologize for getting you shot on Delta Paven –"

"You are reckless and too trusting, Jim. I know you, and I _know_ how you get with things. You just don't _think_."

"At least I _act_, Bones. All you _do_ is think—you overthink every little thing. When was the last time you just _did_ something, just acted out of instinct?"

McCoy didn't have an answer.

"Exactly. This is why you won't go for Holly, because you're all wrapped up in yourself—"

"Don't bring my feelings for Holly into this." McCoy snapped.

"I don't know how many times I have tell you that you _are_ a good guy, and if she's going to make you happy, then _go_ for it!"

"This has _nothing_ to do with her."

"That's right, this is about Delta Paven—_everything_ always has to come back to that goddamn disaster, the mission I will _never_ stop paying for."

McCoy huffed—this wasn't going anywhere. They were both just furious and shouting.

"I don't have time for this." He started to walk away but Kirk reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"No way, Bones, _you_ started this. I'm not done. You're not walking away."

"_I_ am—let go of me, Jim." His tone was dangerous. This had gone far enough and he knew they both needed to take a step back and cool down.

"I'm not letting go until we fix this once and for all." Kirk insisted.

"I'm not kidding Jim, _let go of me._"

"Bones—"

"You want me to act on instinct?" McCoy whirled, pulled back his arm and loosed a hard punch straight to Kirk's face. As Kirk reeled back, clutching his jaw in surprise and pain, McCoy uncurled his fist and flexed his throbbing hand. "How's that?"

"Great—let it _all_ out. Don't hold back, now, what _else_ is on your mind?" Kirk said, blue eyes flashing.

"You want more? Fine. I'm tired of offering advice you refuse to take, even when lives are on the line. I'm tired of you treating everything like a goddamn joke! I keep thinking you're going to grow up and I'm still waiting."

"At least I don't carry my baggage with me for _years on end_," Kirk shot back cruelly. "How many years ago did she leave you, and I'm _still_ picking up the fucking pieces."

Kirk barely had finished when his head was snapped back with another punch from McCoy. He managed to get the doctor with a retaliating punch before his friend could get out of range. He grabbed McCoy's shirt and was about to let loose again when someone cleared their throat loudly, coming from the doorway. Kirk peered around McCoy, dropping his arm and letting go of his friend's shirt, as McCoy turned to look as well.

"I apologize if I am… interrupting," said Spock, eyes shifting from one man to the other. The fight drained out of them at once. Kirk dropped his gaze to the floor and McCoy shifted uneasily.

"Mr. Ealick has been secured in the brig, and I have asked security personnel to continue to monitor the others until they receive further instructions."

"Thanks, Spock," Kirk grimaced. The Vulcan nodded and exited the room.

After he had gone, the two men couldn't seem to meet the other's eyes suddenly. Kirk moved first, brushing past the doctor and heading out the open door. McCoy covered his flushed, sore face with his hand and quietly cursed at himself.

* * *

After the day she'd had, Holly felt numb. It was bizarre, she thought detachedly. After the _Chronos_, she'd been drowning in emotion and had to work to keep her mind elsewhere. Now, she felt nothing, as if her day had happened to someone else entirely.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she curled her fingers tight around her access card until it hurt.

Her door beeped and she called, "Come in."

"They just let me out of my quarters," Kryst came in and rushed to her side. "They're saying it was Dal – everything that happened here, and they arrested him. Jem's meditating and I needed somebody to talk to me about this whole thing."

He slowed his rambling and took a breath. "I'm sorry, I'm completely freaking out. I can't believe… I can't wrap my head around this Dal thing."

Holly shook her head. "Me neither."

"They told me he was responsible for _Chronos_ too… is that true?"

"Maybe. They think so."

"You don't?"

She shrugged a little. "I think I'm still in shock."

Kryst plopped down beside her. "Yeah, me too." After a moment's pause, he said, "You know, they also said they were letting some groups go down to the planet if they wanted, while the ship is docked for repairs. I thought maybe you, me and Jem could—to you know, clear our heads a bit, get away from this place for a few hours."

She lifted her head and met his deep green eyes. "That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day."

Kryst grinned. "All right, well why don't you go get Jem, and I'll arrange us a pod. Meet you there in a few?"

Holly stood with him. The prospect of escaping everything for just a little while was so overwhelmingly appealing, she almost smiled.

* * *

Kirk was on his way to the bridge to find something to do, his jaw still throbbing. He couldn't tell when they'd lost control of their emotions, but he supposed it was a long time coming. They'd never really dealt with the fallout from Delta Paven after all.

Kirk always liked to joke about it, because that's who he was and how he dealt with things—he joked about nearly dying on Nero's ship, too. McCoy was built differently, though. Some days he could make light of things that were months behind them, and that had all worked out in the end. But other days he couldn't stop dwelling on it, replaying it and feeling hurt all over. It was why on the anniversary of the day his wife left him, he could be found drinking himself to sleep in his quarters, the rest of the universe be damned.

Kirk winced at the memory of what he'd said to McCoy about his ex-wife—that had been a low blow, knowing his friend as he did. He gingerly touched his swollen cheek.

_Yeah_, he thought. _I deserve that one_.

Maybe if they had just talked about Delta Paven ages ago, it never would've come to blows. There had been a tension there that every new crisis seemed to revive.

Delta Paven had been all his fault, he knew. He shouldn't have trusted Yuri or let him set the terms of the meet. He should've known from long experience not to trust a guy who shot you in the back. Kirk had gone against everyone's advice, trusting his gut that Yuri spoke truthfully about wanting to make peace with Starfleet.

The whole excursion still haunted Kirk, and he should've known better: if it haunted _him_, then multiply by three, make it darker and that's how it felt for McCoy. Not to mention McCoy was the one who'd been shot that time—twice in the chest, by bullets intended for Kirk.

Kirk stopped walking and leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes. He could still see his friend's crumpled body, hear the shot echoing over the icy ground, feel the way the snow fell in soft, unassuming flakes. He remembered pressing his hands to McCoy's chest, ignoring the blood trailing down his own face, screaming for his friend to _stay with me, c'mon Bones, stay with me!_

With a shiver, Kirk opened his eyes. McCoy was right to be angry—Kirk had gone in blind, trusting his instincts, and that was what he was doing again. His instincts were relying on the meager evidence before him, and he was forging straight ahead, headless of what others had to say. He was determined to be right, and now was heading down the same path that led to the disaster on Delta Paven.

He couldn't simply rely on Dal's guilt without more evidence. Maybe Jem or Kryst—or even Holly, somehow—_had_ set him up. He had to consider the possibilities, and felt embarrassed that in his haste to have it all done with, he'd so stubbornly refused to think further.

He _hated_ admitting he was wrong, but he understood McCoy had simply been trying to tell him to listen to his other senses and his brain. Kirk wished the urging had come without punches, but then again, Kirk hadn't exactly been very helpful on that front, acting just as bullheaded about it all.

Kirk groaned internally. He needed to apologize to his friend.

He ended up circling the deck a couple times before he felt like he had the words to say and could head for the turbolift.

* * *

Holly wasted no time after Kryst had departed to fill Jem in, who was eager to leave the _Enterprise_, too. They met Kryst outside the shuttle pod's docking station just minutes later.

He spread his arms wide. "All ours!"

"No one else is coming?" Holly questioned.

"I guess they're not going for another few hours, but Ensign Parker cleared us to go down now." Kryst explained, clambering into the pod after Jem.

Holly settled in one of the passenger chairs. "Good," she said, doing up the buckle on her harness. "I'm glad it's only us."

Jem flipped some switches and began to process of detaching the pod from _Enterprise_. "Me too. This day has been difficult."

"The past few months have," Kryst agreed somberly.

"I'm glad it's over, too." Holly added and let her shoulders relax.

The farther the pod got from _Enterprise_, the more relief she felt. For a few hours, she could shelve everything—Charlie, _Chronos_, Ford, Dal, Kirk, McCoy—and just be with her friends.

_Just for a little while_, she thought.

* * *

Kirk had turned around and was heading back towards sick bay when McCoy rounded the corner looking harried. "Jim—I was on my way back and Spock paged us. Uhura finally got that PADD message decrypted, and there's a bunch of systems going haywire again. They need you there right now."

"We'd better hurry then," he said and followed the doctor at a swift walk—his apology would have to wait. He hadn't even heard the page.

* * *

The region they'd landed in was arid, red earth stretching to the horizon in every direction, broken by large boulders and piles of red rock as large as a spaceship. In the distance were some towering cliffs, and a lazy, hot breeze drifted by, stirring up dust.

Holly raised a quizzical eyebrow. It didn't look like there was a lot to do here on Dahtoowi, unless a settlement was hidden behind the nearest gathering of ruins. She supposed they were big enough to hide a city from view if it was far enough away (or small enough).

She turned to Jem who looked equally unsure. "Where are we supposed to go?"

* * *

Kirk and McCoy didn't say a word as they hastened to the bridge. Uhura waved them over to her station urgently but Chekov briefly intercepted them, tactfully choosing not to comment on Kirk and McCoy's bruised faces.

"Keptin, one of ze pods has left ze dock—"

"Not now, Chekov," McCoy brushed him off.

"But Enzign Parker is not answering pagez, sir, and the zecurity—"

"In a second," Kirk promised and hurried over to Uhura.

"Sir, I've got it. I had to reset the matrix on the enhancement grid, reverse the vector and code in a back-door set of commands that—"

"Whoa, whoa," Kirk put up his hands, slowing the flow of tech-talk from Uhura. "Simple English."

Uhura sucked in her breath then continued more slowly, "I created a program that was able to scrub the recording within an inch of its life. There's still a lot of noise and static, but you can make out most of it now."

"Play it."

Uhura immediately pressed a button on the panels before her and the final recording from the _Chronos_, and Captain Charlie Cameron, began playing.

_"This—Captain Charlie Cameron of Chronos—emergency star log. I'm—to engineering to get the drive before Kryst destroys it.—since shore leave on Karth, I've been suspicious—him. I don't— time to explain—I have my proof, he's after the drive, and—taking this ship down with him._"

There was the familiar few minutes of general loud, chaotic noise, and this time some of the yelling could barely be heard:

_"Get out of the way!" _

_"—sealing it off –_"

"_No! Charlie, stop _–"

Noise, static, and then silence.

Kirk's heart was in his throat, his mouth dry. He whirled on Chekov.

"The shuttle that took off, unauthorized. Who was in it?"

Chekov took a breath. "Zhat's what I was trying to zay, Keptin. Look." He tapped several buttons and on the view screen and brought up the security footage for the hallway in front of the Shuttle Pod 1's docking station.

Kirk's heart plummeted to his stomach as he watched Jem, Holly, and Kryst climb aboard it.

"God…" McCoy whispered beside him.

Before either of them had the chance to say another word, an explosion rocked the ship.

* * *

**A/n:** Ooh, I think that makes three cliffie chapters in row. What a mean author I am (yup, even on my birthday). ;P Any and all feedback appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/n:** Thanks for continuing to read, and most of all review, you beautiful people! Sorry this took so long to get up, but here's the next chapter finally. ;)

* * *

"Are these the right coordinates?" Holly asked.

Jem frowned. "Of course, they're exactly as Kryst—"

The sound of a particle weapon charging behind them stopped her, and they turned toward the noise.

Kryst winced. "Yeah, sorry. I couldn't exactly have witnesses. The conversation I want to have isn't one that should be overheard."

Holly stared in open-mouthed shock, her brain stuck.

"You." Jem growled, low and dangerous. "All this time."

"It was tricky, let me tell you," Kryst said. "But I think I pulled it off." He glanced idly at his watch. "Right about now they'll be so busy with a brand new set of problems in Engineering, they won't have time to worry that we've gone planet-side for some fun."

"What did you do?" Holly squeaked.

"Most recently? Oh, finished off the drive, of course. The poisoning thing almost worked, and a little old-fashioned C4 did the rest."

"_We_ trusted _you_—" Jem advanced, but Kryst aimed the gun at her.

"Ah, ah, ah," he shook his head. "Don't get too close. Just listen—I have a proposition for you."

Jem straightened, clenching her jaw.

Holly couldn't breathe—her chest was so tight she thought it might split, and her mind was swirling so fast she couldn't grasp any one thought.

Kryst inclined his head slightly. "Holly, you look confused. Let me help you out." He sighed. "The drive: that technology is not ours to wield. It's too much, too advanced, and the data it collects—it's dangerous. Don't you see?" His tone was pleading and passionate. "Time travel is complicated and _insane_. If that information made it to the wrong hands, there's no telling what could happen. I _had_ to make sure that would never happen—I had to protect us!"

She managed to recover a little. "_You_ tried to… blow up…"

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," he said, frowning. "None of you were. In fact, the reason why we are standing here, like this, is because _nothing_ happened like I meant it to." He sighed heavily, as if truly full of regret, and his tone was strangely sad when he began again.

"The pods weren't supposed to be gone, for starters. We were all supposed to get away, unharmed, as our old ship bit the dust in the distance.

"Charlie wasn't supposed to be down in Engineering either—but he figured it out. He saw me come out of that pub on Karth, he knew..." Kryst trailed off, shook his head again, and dropped his voice, meeting Holly's eyes. "I didn't mean to kill him."

Holly swallowed, struggling to stay standing, to keep breathing. "But you did."

"He got in the way," Kryst replied unhappily. "And the charges were already going off, and—well, I had to leave him there."

Holly hugged her arms to herself, finally getting a picture of Charlie's last moments that weren't pure fiction. She shivered despite the hot sun beating down through the hazy yellow-orange sky.

"He screwed me in the end, though," Kryst continued, more angrily this time. "He sealed off Engineering before I got there. I could've hacked it open, but I had no time."

"How sorry I am for you," Jem snapped.

"Hey," Kryst glared at her. "I _tried_ to save us _all_. I tried to end this months ago! I was trying to prevent something much worse from happening. Ford, Charlie and the others were collateral damage."

"You _bastard_," Jem said and abruptly leapt for Kryst.

It happened so fast, Holly had no time to react. Jem screamed like a warrior flying into battle, Kryst pulled the trigger and they collided. Holly stumbled backwards, terrified. Then Kryst was on his feet, and Jem was face down in the red dust, dark bluish-purple liquid seeping out from underneath her still form. Holly's voice clogged in her throat and she couldn't scream even if she wanted to, as Kryst brushed himself off, panting.

"I didn't want to have to do that," he said. "The idea was that I would _explain_ myself, and we could escape together." His expression was absurdly and creepily hopeful.

_"What!?_"

"Look, we know each other pretty well. And I like you, Hols. We had some really good times. I wasn't lying about being your friend. You and me, we're cut from the same cloth, that's why we get along so well."

"No," she shuddered. "No, you and I are _nothing_ alike. I would _never—_God, you _shot Jem and killed Charlie!_"

Kryst sucked in air through his teeth. "And set Dal up to take the fall, I know. It's bad, it is, I'm not going to deny it."

_This is not happening,_ she thought frantically. _This is not happening—wake up, Holly, wake up!_

"I owe Dal so much," he continued. "Switch the encoded tags on a swipe card and it looks like Dal's using _his_ whenever I swiped the dummy card. Change around some time stamps, conveniently erase _correct_ security footage… and suddenly Dal's the one leaving his quarters at two am to sabotage the Engine room, when all he was doing was getting a soda from the mess hall a week before."

He laughed. "Ah, it was really some of my best work. I can't tell you how much it killed me not to tell you, of all people, what I was doing, since I know how well you and Dal get on."

Holly was dizzy, and her hands were shaking violently. Everything in her was screaming to _wake up_—but she was as frozen as she had been before. Kryst, her _friend_, was standing feet before her, gun in his hand, pointed at her. He was between her and the pod, and there was no way she could take him out long enough to make it there. And if there was a chance Jem was still alive…

She had to try.

"I want in," she said finally and managed to still her trembling hands.

Kryst looked at once skeptical, surprised and delighted. "You do?"

Holly shrugged, and the more she talked, the more she stamped down her fear. She had to be like Jem, and _feel it later_. She had to be like Charlie, _brave and strong_. She had to be like Dal, and _fight back_.

"There's nothing for me up there," she gestured to the sky, where out in the planet's orbit, _Enterprise_ was docked. "I thought I had friends up there, but none of them believed I was innocent. Even Kirk, and McCoy. They didn't care when it counted."

"I'm sorry," said Kryst. "I could see how much _you_ cared about them."

She shook her head, allowing her eyes to well up, taking a few steps closer. "It doesn't matter anymore. I get why you did all this—I never felt good about what we were doing either. And I'm sorry that you had to do away with Jem, but… she didn't understand what it's like to crave something new, some new challenge…"

He was nodding as she spoke. The bits of doubt were trailing away from him a little at a time.

"That's why you and I were so good, back on _Chronos_. We _thrived_ there, under that pressure, under that stress—that _thrill_ of whether or not we were going to make it supper time when we ran into a storm…" Holly smiled. "I want that back. But I want to do it right this time."

"We can get it," he grinned. "We can get it all back."

"I can't wait." Holly said, and smashed her knee into his stomach.

He made a wild grab for her as he gasped for his breath, and the gun went flying. She scooped it up and threw it as hard as she could towards the nearby ruins. He growled and was on his feet, tackling her to the ground. Holly brought her fist to the side of his head, then again to his nose and face. He landed a harsh blow on her cheek and she used her legs to shove him away from her. She clawed at the ground and scrambled to her feet, then took off running as hard as she could for the pod.

Kryst was on her again in a second, grabbing her around the legs and slamming her to the ground so hard her chin split, and she tasted blood in her mouth. He threw a fist at her head that made her see stars, and then she was on her back and he was standing above her. She kicked out and hit his knee—he cried out and stumbled back, giving her another window to get on her feet.

Her head was spinning and she wasn't running straight, and then realized she was heading towards the ruins. Kryst's fingers grasped the back of her shirt and he yanked her hard, his other hand raked scratches across her arm. She lost her footing but scooped up a handful of dirt and pitched it up at Kryst's eyes. He hollered and loosened his grip.

Holly pounded forwards and leaned down to grab a fist-sized rock. She turned to face Kryst, who was panting, blooding trailing from his nose and dripping onto his shirt, caked with red dirt.

"It doesn't… have to be this way," he wheezed. "I didn't want to hurt any of you, but… you left me with no choice. I can't have any… loose ends."

"Of course," she retorted and hurled the rock at him.

He ducked it easily and charged for her, but the next one landed squarely on his face, cutting his cheek and causing him to yell in pain and fury. She tried to run past him, but he recovered and was on her, knocking her flat. The wind rushed out of her and this time he put his weight on her and held her arms down. She tried vainly to kick him.

"You should've… let me keep the gun," Kryst grumbled, trying to catch his breath. He moved his hands from her arms to her throat. "If I had… to kill you, I was going to make it quick and… relatively painless."

He started squeezing. Holly scratched frantically at his hands, struggling for air. He winced when her scrapes drew blood, hissing through his teeth, but the pressure on her neck didn't ease.

"Now… I have to do it this way. I'm sorry, Holly, I am. You really were my friend."

Black spots were popping in her vision. She reached for his face, flailing and trying to connect with any part of him she could. He was squeezing tighter, her mind was swimming and swirling. Kryst was going to be the last thing she'd ever see…

* * *

The locator beacon aboard Shuttle Pod 1 had been disabled, so finding it was tricky at best. Had they been delayed just another half hour, the weak heat signature trail would've been completely dissipated.

McCoy was running the moment they had beamed down.

"Bones—wait!" Kirk ran after him, and barely managed to catch his arm.

McCoy wrenched it away. He wasn't waiting for anything—he wasn't going to wait another goddamn _second_ before he found Holly, and he prayed she would be all right.

"Bones we can't just—"

"It's _Holly!_"

Knowing she'd left the ship with the saboteur who'd killed her brother, framed her friend, and successfully destroyed the _Chronos _drive was enough to make McCoy throw protocol into the wind. Every second they wasted was another in which she could be in danger—if she was even still alive.

Kirk grabbed at his friend again and shouted, "_Delta Paven!_"

That stopped McCoy for a quick moment. Delta Paven? He was bringing Delta _fucking_ Paven up at a time like this? He thought Kirk meant the fight they'd had earlier, and was about to tell him off—_we_ _don't have time for this!—_and then he realized exactly what his friend meant.

"One, two?" said Kirk, and McCoy nodded. The captain gestured to the handful of ensigns they'd brought with them and they fanned out at once.

* * *

There was a shout and a bang, and Kryst glanced up in surprise. Suddenly the pressure was gone from her neck and oxygen came rushing back in. Holly scrambled back, gasping, and pushed Kryst away from her. Only when she was clear of him, backed up against a crumbling ruin wall, did she realize he was unmoving and bleeding.

She looked up and saw Kirk, a dozen feet away, gun raised, a few ensigns in a similar stance behind him. Two were bent over Jem's unmoving body close to the pod. Holly heard her name, and then McCoy was there, at her side, having come from behind and to the right. He tossed his weapon aside while Kirk approached Kryst cautiously, keeping his gun trained on the body.

The tears began pouring down her cheeks. "It was K-Kryst, all along, it was… and Charlie…"

McCoy enveloped her in his arms, crushing her tight to his chest. Her words dissolved into sobs.

"It's okay," he said. "I've got you. It's okay now. _I've got you._"

McCoy's heart hammered against his ribs. It had taken everything he had to stick to Kirk's plan and use the formation Yuri and his men had employed back on Delta Paven. The ruins had hidden their approach, so Kryst had been surrounded. And now Holly was safe. He shut his eyes, feeling relief so acute it washed out everything else.

* * *

After Kirk determined that Kryst was definitely dead, he instructed several of the ensigns to get his body back to the pod. Jem was still alive but needed medical attention immediately. Kirk hovered awkwardly several feet away from Holly and McCoy as the others beamed up with her. He'd been the one to shoot Kryst and he'd been thankful to see Holly mostly unharmed. The look on her face when she spotted him had been one of surprise and relief, but it hadn't compared to way her features transformed and lit up when she saw McCoy. It was easy to see where her heart truly lay.

Kirk had known McCoy for years without having seen him look at anyone like that.

Feeling as though he was intruding, he tore his eyes away from the pair, and backed away to wait for them by the pod. He didn't have to wait long before McCoy and Holly came over. She was visibly limping on her bad leg and leaned on him for support. Kirk smiled.

"You all right?" he asked.

She shrugged a little. "I will be, eventually. Jem…?"

"She's alive—Ensign Phillips beamed back with her already."

"We'll get back right away," McCoy assured her. "We'll do everything we can."

Holly ducked her head, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry this all happened. I didn't know, I…"

Kirk hushed her. "Nobody is blaming you. Kryst was a good liar and even better at covering his tracks. You didn't know and that's not your fault."

She didn't look convinced and Kirk knew he would feel the same if it had been him.

The three of them plus the remaining pair of ensigns beamed back to the ship, while the rest climbed into Shuttle Pod 1. Holly related what Kryst had said, including his misguided reasons for wanting to destroy the drive, when McCoy helped her down to sick bay.

* * *

Late in the evening, McCoy was seated in a chair beside Holly's bed. She was sleeping peacefully, her face bruised but clean. He was holding her hand but couldn't stop replaying the sight of Kryst choking her. He was glad Kirk had shot the bastard, otherwise McCoy would've torn him limb from limb.

Jem was in a bed across the room. She'd lost a lot of blood planet-side, but had been stabilized. Ever present in the corner of sick bay, Ford's condition was still unchanged.

Gaila occupied a third bed, healing from some minor burns on her arms and legs where her uniform had caught fire as the _Chronos_ drive had exploded. A few others had suffered small injuries as well, but everyone would live.

The doors opened quietly and McCoy looked up to see a haggard Kirk enter.

"How is she?" the captain asked.

"Alive," McCoy replied.

Kirk nodded and sat down on the bed next to Holly, beside McCoy's chair. They sat in silence for several minutes, before the captain finally broke it.

"Bones, I'm sorry."

McCoy sighed, shaking his head. "_I'm_ sorry. I said a lot of things that were way out of line—"

"I'm the one who made the dig at your ex-wife." Kirk grimaced. "I don't know if it gets lower than that."

McCoy grunted. "Well, I wasn't going to say it."

"I didn't mean most of it. I was just, pissed off and…"

"Sure you did," said the doctor. "And you weren't wrong."

"Still. I shouldn't have said it." Kirk regarded his friend carefully, and after a moment, added, "You love her, don't you?"

McCoy made a scoffing noise and stammered out a protest, but Kirk didn't need him to admit it. He knew what he'd seen down on Dahtoowi.

"I think that's why you two work, you know," he said and this time it was McCoy regarding the other man thoughtfully. "You're both damaged and broken, but you heal each other. It's cathartic."

The doctor turned his gaze on Holly's sleeping form, his expression uncharacteristically tender.

"Look, Jim, everything I said about Delta Paven—"

"It's done, Bones. We should've talked about it all right after it happened, not let it fester. It was bound to explode in our faces at some point."

McCoy nodded slowly, accepting.

"Can we stop apologizing now?"

"Dear God, yes."

Kirk's features split into a wide grin. McCoy caught his eye, and at first it was just a chuckle, and then they were laughing quietly into their hands, not wanting to wake Holly. Kirk slapped his friend on the back.

"Bones, what would I do without you?"

McCoy grunted. "Probably get yourself killed."

* * *

**A/n:** Thank you for reading! Feedback is love. :D


	18. Chapter 18

**A/n:** Thank you, one and all for joining me on this ride, it's been really fun! (Next time I will have to give myself more time for editing during the Het Bang, because I still feel like there's a lot of issues with this fic, but ah well.) Thank you so much for reading, and especially to every fav and to_ every reviewer _most of all - I adore hearing what you guys think. Thank you so very much once again, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion! :D

* * *

When _Enterprise_ arrived at Earth and Kirk had Scotty gather together an Engineering team, including Holly, to deliver _Chronos_' drive to Starfleet, Holly was more than a little confused.

"But Kryst blew it up," she said, glancing between Kirk and Spock. "He said he used some C4 from the weapons store because poisoning it wasn't going to work after all."

"He _thought_ he blew it up," the captain corrected with a sly grin.

He proceeded to explain. After Holly had tended to the engine, Kirk had had the drive transferred to an entirely different part of the ship in secret. Scotty and Gaila had fabricated a fake engine and no one was the wiser. By creating chaos in the engine room, Kryst actually unintentionally had helped Kirk carry out his plan.

Dal was released from custody, and Kirk personally apologized for all the trouble. Dal was his usually surly self, but surprised Holly by shaking the captain's hand before Kirk left.

Holly was left alone with Dal for an awkward few moments, neither knowing to say. She knew she ought to apologize for accusing him, but couldn't get the words out. She couldn't meet his eyes, either, which didn't matter because he frowning at the floor anyways. They were saved from saying anything at all when the captain informed them it was time, and that the drive would be on its way down in moments.

"Sir, I don't mean put you in any sort of position, given everything that's happened," Dal clasped his hands behind his back. "And I know you're about to leave to go planet-side to deliver the drive, and that in a few days, those of us left from the _Chronos _are to be left with Starfleet. But… sir, is it possible I might stay on the _Enterprise_?"

Holly glanced in surprise between Dal and Kirk. Frankly, she'd been waiting for the right moment to ask the same thing.

Kirk smiled. "I'll have a chat with Admiral Walker and see what I can do."

"That'll be just fine." Dal nodded, and Kirk headed away.

"You want to stay?" Holly questioned.

Dal shrugged. "I have no where else to go. Besides, I can't just abandon you after everything that happened."

Holly felt a sudden burst of affection for Dal. She bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears against her will. He caught her soft expression and grunted.

"Geez, princess, it's not a big deal." But his tone had a rare note of warmth in it and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a crooked half-smile.

She didn't how in the mess of everything, she and Dal had come to share this moment, but she was glad it was there. She doubted it would completely stop them from arguing in the future, but it was a start.

She thought, _One step at a time._

* * *

Kirk and Holly had a quick moment alone before he was due to go down to the planet. Once again she felt compelled to apologize and was at a loss for words. Luckily, Kirk spoke first.

"Holly," he locked his brilliant blue eyes with her hazel ones. "McCoy and I have a rule. No more apologizing. Understand?"

She nodded.

"So let's just start fresh. Again. Or, in the middle somewhere." He grinned that handsome grin of his.

She laughed and agreed.

He winked and then followed Scotty into Shuttle Pod 1.

"See you soon."

* * *

Jem was finally awake in the sick bay and she smiled smugly when Holly asked how she felt.

"Well, luckily, Kryst had limited knowledge of my species' internal anatomy." She pressed a long finger over the bandage on her chest, where a heart would be on a human, and then moved it down to where the ribcage would be. "My heart is actually down here." She shrugged one shoulder and added, "Either that, or he is a very bad shot."

Holly asked if Jem knew how Ford was. McCoy had updated her just before he left to grab lunch.

"She will be transferred to a facility on Earth," Jem said grimly. "Her family will be waiting for her."

Holly nodded sadly. She told her friend about Dal wanting to stay on _Enterprise_, and how she hoped to stay, too. Jem tilted her head slightly.

"I do not think I would like to stay, no," she murmured.

Holly's shoulders slumped. She had assumed Jem would without question, and had really asked more as a courtesy. Jem reached out and closed her fingers around Holly's hand.

"You know the circumstances under which I came to be on _Chronos_," she said and Holly nodded, already tearing up again and feeling like a child whose family was moving away. "I have served my time. I plan to return to Saxis, or perhaps a planet similar. I miss my woods."

Holly blinked and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Just be careful where you hunt, next time," she joked weakly.

Jem's beautiful, large eyes were shining and she squeezed Holly's hand. "I will miss you greatly, Holly Cameron. But I promise this is not goodbye. We will stay in touch." She added, "That is not a request."

Holly laughed tearfully.

* * *

McCoy was dreading the moment that Holly walked through the door. Seeing her meant saying goodbye as she left for Earth with her friends. Which meant he was about to lose her. He couldn't ask her to stay, though. It wasn't his place, and she was still technically a civilian, not a Startfleet officer.

So, he wouldn't let his feelings run away with him. He would be calm and say goodbye. He had spent the morning imagining the scenario and had even gone to the garden to pick flowers for a parting gift, which in hindsight just felt cheesy. He glared at the bouquet on his desk, which looked unreasonably cheerful.

At that moment, he spotted Holly hovering in his doorway.

McCoy's heart leapt into his throat. He scooped up the flowers, grimacing. "I suppose you're all ready, then?"

"Ready for what?"

Was she going to make him say it?

"For you to… for Earth." He dropped his gaze to the large red and white petals, stomach churning. This had better be a short goodbye.

"Did someone tell you I was going?" she asked.

"They didn't have to," he answered, his voice low. "That was the plan from the beginning—once we reached Earth, you and your friends would go down to Starfleet and that'd be that."

She crossed her arms over her chest and she seemed amused, though he couldn't fathom why. "Plans change, McCoy."

He didn't dare feel hope at her words. "Oh yeah?" He grumbled.

Holly giggled. "McCoy," she came close and he reluctantly looked at her.

"I'm not going," she said. "I'm staying."

His heart sped up. "How? I thought…"

"Kirk talked to Admiral Walker about me and Dal." She smiled prettily at him. "I'm going to go back to Corinth IV for a week to see my parents but when I get back, I'm staying on the _Enterprise_."

McCoy's knees buckled with relief. He grunted and shook his head at the long-stemmed flowers in his hand. "And here I am, standing here like an idiot, with this stupid thing, ready to say goodbye forever."

"You weren't even going to ask me to stay?"

He shook his head. "I had no right to."

Holly bit her lip then said, "McCoy, when you have a girl's heart, you have _every_ right to ask her to stay."

Inside, his heart was pounding in his chest and he wanted to kiss her, badly, but outwardly, he was gruff and shaking his head again, trying to come up with a suitable response.

Holly laughed then, unable to contain herself and closed the distance between them, kissing him sweetly. When she pulled back, she took the flowers gently from him, turning the bouquet over in her fingers.

"Asiska blossom…" She smiled warmly at him. "It's my favorite."

Modestly, he shrugged. "It was just a guess. You seemed to always have to smell those ones in particular whenever I saw you in the garden."

"Thank you, McCoy. It wasn't a 'stupid romantic gesture'. It was thoughtful."

"Well," he huffed. "Don't get used to it. I'm a doctor, not Prince Charming. I'm no good at this stuff."

"Good," Holly replied. "Because I don't want Prince Charming, I want _you_."

This time it was McCoy who initiated the kiss, covering her mouth with his, and wrapping his arms tight around her.

* * *

Four weeks later on Corinth IV, he held her hand as she gently placed Asiska blossoms on Charlie's grave.

_**fin.**_


End file.
